


Peach Meat

by Dean_Wax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Worship, Christmas, Cock Tease, Collars, Cum Play, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Food Issues, Foot Jobs, Forced Orgasm, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kissing, Lace Panties, M/M, Massage, Non-Sexual Bondage, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Porn with Feelings, Public Blow Jobs, Public Masturbation, Sex Toys, Teasing, Voyeurism, femme dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_Wax/pseuds/Dean_Wax
Summary: “Do you want to play with me?” the redhead asked sweetly.Colin’s heart hammered in his chest. He wondered if he’d slipped, back in the showers, and cracked his head on the tiles.“Er,” he began, stupidly, because his mind was flooded with about a dozen different ways in which he dearly, dearly wanted to ‘play’ with him, but none of them could possibly be what Davy meant, because this was real life, not a fucking pornography.***But Colin was wrong, because this story IS a fucking pornography, and he has no idea what he's in for.





	1. Oh my god, Blythe

He’d joined the university’s casual hockey team as a way to make friends. Going to the gym was great for staying in shape but it was somewhat lacking on the social front, especially if you quickly tired of conversations about protein and lifting. 

He hadn’t expected… this.

Sweet jesus, it was like a peach. Pale, round, juicy… he could barely tear his eyes away. Was he wearing girl’s shorts, was that it? No, there were a half dozen women on the pitch wearing everything from track pants to scrunch-butt lycra booty shorts, and none of them compared. These were some kind of vintage men’s running shorts, complete with white piping along the edges. Where the hell did he get them? Did he know what he looked like from behind?! Colin would have given his left nut just to sink his fingers into that pillowy flesh.

He suffered a miniature heart attack when a hockey stick rapped at one of his shin guards. 

“I know it’s casual, Colin, but get your head in the game, yeah?” Kevin, one of the group organisers, glowered at him on his way past to where the action was. 

“R-right.” Colin’s face flushed, glancing down to check the front of his own gym shorts. All clear. At least the consequences of his day-dreaming hadn’t been _ that _mortifying. He shook his head and tried to keep the unknown redhead’s glorious arse out of his mind for the rest of the match, but it was easier said than done when they were on the same team and Colin was stuck back in defense.

He had to know who he was. Fortunately, he knew exactly who to ask: Eric Blythe, a shameless playboy who was obliged to be civil to him due to family friendships, not to mention a common sexuality. They didn’t share many interests, but if they did, surely that perfect arse would be one of them. 

Colin cornered him in the changerooms.  
  
“Eric,” he asked in a hushed tone, looking over his shoulder as though there may be spies in the area. “Who _ was _ that on our team? The redhead playing striker.”  
  
“Who, Davy?” Eric gave the man a strange look. “He’s a second-year, like you and me.”

He wasn’t a first-year? How the hell had Colin not seen him on campus until now?!

  
“Is he gay?” Colin asked urgently.

Eric’s expression grew foreboding and he swallowed, reaching up to rub at the side of his neck. “Don’t do it, Colin,” he warned him.

So he _ was _gay. Colin’s head whipped round to scan the changeroom, spotting the man getting a bag out of his locker. In addition to his mouth-watering rear assets, he was impossibly gorgeous, of course. A coiffed crop of deep, red hair and thick eyebrows. A heart-shaped face with full, pink lips above a dimple in his chin. As if he could sense that he was being watched, Davy’s baby-blue eyes blinked and he looked over his shoulder.

Colin’s head snapped back towards the wall like a whip-crack, tensing up as though he had been caught in the act. Swallowing, he forced himself to begin stripping off as though everything was normal.

“_ Colin _ ,” Eric muttered, barely turning his head as he, too, rigidly continued changing. “I’m telling you, don’t do it. I can set you up with someone if you want, just not him.”  
  
“Sod off, Eric,” Colin scolded him, waving him away as he grabbed his shampoo bottle and headed to the showers. Whatever he was on about, he was full of it. Gay meant fair game. He probably just got the cold shoulder and didn’t want anyone else to try their luck.

“It won’t go the way you think!” His acquaintance hissed after him. His warning was ignored.

Colin spent most of his shower devising exactly how he’d ask Davy out for a drink. Or would coffee be a better angle? No, that was weak. Should he go all-out and take him out to dinner? He’d gladly blow through some of his savings if it meant he could eat that peach for dessert.  
  
It turns out, he needn’t have bothered. Back in the change room, he’d still been in his boxer briefs when someone tapped his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Wheeling round, he came face to face (or almost, as Davy was nearly a head shorter) with the man of his dreams, who was evidently much faster at getting changed than he. 

“Do you want to play with me?” the redhead asked sweetly.  
  
Colin’s heart hammered in his chest. He wondered if he’d slipped, back in the showers, and cracked his head on the tiles. 

“Er,” he began, stupidly, because his mind was flooded with about a dozen different ways in which he dearly, dearly wanted to ‘play’ with him, but none of them could possibly be what Davy meant, because this was real life, not a fucking pornography.

  
The redhead tittered, pointing to the wall where Colin’s backpack hung from a peg. His backpack that was emblazoned with the Overwatch logo.

“Oh!” he exclaimed as understanding hit him like a freight train. Of all things to get him a foot in the door, Colin never would have guessed it would be a video game. “Sure,” he said keenly. “Sounds great!”

“Do you play console or PC?” Davy asked him with a patient smile.

Shit! Fuck! “Er, XBox,” Colin admitted sheepishly, knowing it was the less popular option. He wasn’t quite minted enough for a gaming rig, and console worked out cheaper. 

“That’s fine,” Davy’s smile widened. “I have both.” 

“Studying game design then, are you?” Colin asked, though he wasn’t sure why he was being so assumptive. He was running on autopilot, all while still in his underwear.

“No,” the man shook his head. “I’m on track for a Masters in Cybersecurity."

No wonder Colin hadn't seen him until now: all those types of course were on a completely different part of campus. Why hadn't he joined a social club sooner?! 

"Here," Davy continued, holding out his hand, "if you give me your phone, I can add you on Discord.”

Thank _ fuck _he had Discord. Colin took his phone from his bag, unlocked it with his finger print, and gladly handed it over. He then took the opportunity to put on his jeans before his imagination ran wild and he got a hard-on in the middle of the changing room. Pulling a white T-shirt over his head, he felt a little more secure but he still licked his lips nervously as he watched the gorgeous twink tap away at his phone screen.

“Okay,” Davy looked up, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he held the phone out. “I friended you and added you to a private server. Just message me your Blizzard tag when you can, and I’ll add you on that, too.”

“Okay!” Colin grinned, taking his phone back. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging like a happy puppy. “How about tonight?”

“Sure.”

***

As it turned out, Davy was a Mercy main. Colin had assumed (once again) that someone who played striker in real-life hockey would opt to play damage per second, rather than a healer. He had been wrong.

Sitting on the end of his bed in his modest studio apartment, Colin found himself feeling oddly underdressed for the occasion. It wasn’t unusual for him to lounge around in sports socks and grey sweatpants when he was playing video games, but now that he had Davy’s voice in his ear by way of Discord and a bright red wireless headset, he worried that it counted as perverted, somehow, to be shirtless for the exchange. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a thrill out of wondering if Davy would _ like _the sight of his muscular torso, but they weren’t on webcam, of course, only voice chat. And Davy didn’t ask him what he was wearing: he asked him to play a tank.

Okay, Reinhardt it was.

Colin wondered what Davy was wearing. Even now, staring at his TV screen as he waited for the doors to open at the spawn point so the match could start, Colin found himself staring at the glimpse of thighs on Mercy’s witch skin. The digital woman was a glum comparison to the real-world flesh he’d witnessed at the hockey match. Did Davy favour short pyjamas, too? Colin would die of embarrassment before he asked the man what he was wearing, of course. He hadn’t picked up that kind of reckless flirting habit in high school, and he didn’t want Davy to dismiss him as some thirsty fuckboy now. No: he had to be mature about this.

“Hmm, our Genji is over-extending,” Davy’s voice mused aloud into his ear.

“Huh? Oh, right,” Colin snapped out of his reverie, sitting up a little straighter. He’d been on autopilot, which was easy to do when all that was needed was to hold up a big shield and push the payload from A to B.

“I’m gonna let him die.” Colin could practically hear the smile in Davy’s voice. Sure enough, he heard a dramatic death scream a few moments later and Genji’s death marker popped up on the map in the distance. 

“You’re doing a great job,” Davy praised him.

Colin’s heart skipped a beat. “Th-thanks.”

They won quite a few games that night. At least, certainly more than Colin and his mates managed, on average. The team coordination was fairly solid: Colin did absolutely everything Davy said because he was desperate to impress him, and the rest of the team, being strangers, probably did what Davy said because they wanted to be healed. There was the odd over-extending Genji or two, of course, but nothing they couldn’t handle.

Then, as the repetition of Quick Play matches began to get a little tiresome, Davy popped a question that made Colin sit bolt upright: “So, do you play any other games?”

“Yeah! I like a bit of everything, really,” he chattered, praying he didn’t talk himself into a corner. “I play a lot of indie stuff, ‘cos it’s cheaper, but most of that only has local co-op. If there’s a game you’re really into, I can check it out.”

“Indie sounds cute,” Davy answered, making Colin’s heart beat faster. “How about I just come over?”

Colin rose bodily to his feet and looked round his small, cluttered apartment in a panic. Why hadn’t he listened to his mum and tidied up?! “Uh,” he stalled. “My place is kind of a mess right now. Big party last night.”

“So come ‘round mine, then,” the redhead suggested casually.

This wasn’t happening. Colin couldn’t believe it was this easy. “R-really?” he stammered, “Right now?”

“It’s not like it’s a school night,” Davy chuckled.

“Okay, uh..” Colin turned a circle in his room, not quite sure what to do with himself. Fortunately, his headset was wireless, so he didn’t mummify himself in any cables. “I just need to put on a shirt.” Shit! Why did he say that?!

Fortunately, Davy laughed. The sound came through like bells on the headset. “Okay,” he chuckled. “I’ll message you the address. Don’t take too long finding a shirt.”

***

Davy’s house was _ really _nice. Colin shouldn’t have been so surprised, having recognised the area as a posh part of town when he’d checked the address, but here he was, flanked by rose bushes and nervously pushing a doorbell on a three-storey townhouse. He was no stranger to class-mixing, of course; it came with the territory of attending university, but he was still glad that he'd smartened up a bit before coming over. He'd picked out one of his nicer, collared shirts and switched his sweatpants for some dark khaki slacks. 

Davy answered the door in an oversized, pastel pink hoodie with black detailing. The zipper hid his mouth, rendering him as a half-face with big, blue eyes. After a moment, he popped his chin out to greet the man: “Hi, Colin.”

The hoodie went all the way down to mid-thigh. Colin privately mourned the difference between the cosy loungewear and the man’s athletic attire before he forced himself to smile like a normal person; one who wasn’t a sex maniac. “Hi, Davy.”

“Did you bring your console?” Davy asked, tilting his head to one side.

The question threw Colin for a loop. He definitely hadn’t; he’d been too busy picking out clothes that would make him look smart, hadn’t he?! “Er,” he began uselessly, turning on his heel to look back at his car on the road. Not that it would help: he knew damn well that the thing was still plugged in back at home. What was he going to do now?!

Before the panic could set in properly, a hand gently caught the back of his collar and gently tugged him back towards the doorway. “We’ll figure something out,” Davy said warmly.

“Right,” Colin answered, deflated and internally dying of embarrassment. 

Davy released him and started up the stairs in an entry hall that looked like it was straight out of a high-end catalogue. Watching him go, Colin felt a flutter of hope at the sight of dark grey leggings clinging to his legs, flashing a patch of creamy skin before his socks began. If he could just get him to take off that hoodie...

“If you could take your shoes off,” Davy called back, “we just had the cleaners in.”

Colin forced himself to snap out of it, looking down at the tidy little shoe rack by the door. He carefully worked his feet out of his shoes and nudged them closer to the rack before he padded up the stairs in his socks. “Is this your place?” he asked. After hearing some of the bragging about trust funds that went on about campus, he wouldn’t be that surprised if the man owned a house, even at his young age.

“No,” Davy chuckled. “Dad’s in Dubai, and mum’s out, too.”

“Where’s she gone out to?” Colin asked casually as they made it to the third floor, thinking of the pub in town where his mother and her friends were a force to be reckoned with on the weekly quiz nights.

“Paris,” Davy answered sweetly.

“Ah, right.” Colin didn’t know any pubs in France: personally, the only place abroad he’d been was Greece. It explained why the big house was so quiet - all he could hear was the faint hum of electronics in Davy’s bedroom. When the man opened the door, the whole room was illuminated by the light of a giant TV on one wall, still left on the menu screen of Overwatch. Colin spotted a pretty impressive PC set up at a desk on the other side of the room, too: Davy hadn’t been joking about the amount of tech he had.

“Sorry,” Davy tittered, switching on the light. “I have a bad habit of leaving the lights off.”

“Saves power,” Colin answered in a daze, taking it all in. The bedroom was big enough to house the TV, PC setup, a walk-in wardrobe and still have enough floor space for a white faux fur rug before coming to the foot of a queen-sized bed decked out with a plush, cream quilt. The bedroom itself may very well have been larger than the entire living room and kitchenette combined in Colin’s pokey apartment. “Nice room.”

“Thanks,” Davy said, and Colin heard the telltale sound of a zipper. “Have a seat.”

The only logical place to sit was on the bed, so Colin crossed the fluffy rug and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, but his gaze was fixed on Davy the whole time. The redhead had turned around to reveal his outfit, arguably still giving off an athletic vibe thanks to the form-fitting nature of it. A white, cropped singlet clung to his trim torso, flashing a bit of flesh before the waistband of his grey leggings began. The outfit struck Colin as femme - very femme - but the uninhibited bulge of the man’s cock was definitely present underneath the spandex. Colin thought he preferred that instead of a tuck. But he had to think fast, before observing the man’s outfit became outright ogling. 

“Uh,” he piped up. “Sorry about the XBox. It was stupid of me to forget.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Davy smiled, coming closer. “We weren’t really going to play XBox, anyway.”

Colin blinked, mouth agape, as the redhead reached out and took his face in his hands. He could barely get his thoughts in order before Davy leaned in and started kissing him. Fortunately, his mouth responded on autopilot while his brain was busy short-circuiting, greeting Davy’s tongue with his own as hips hands groped for his waist.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. The man’s skin was so _ soft _, Colin’s hands slipped down the small of his back as though it was butter. Colin;’s heart beat faster as he worked his way under the waistband of Davy’s leggings, pushing harder into the kiss with a hum as his fingers pressed into the supple curve of Davy’s arse. It felt as good as it looked! If he could just get closer to the cleft...

Davy’s hand reached back and guided Colin’s hand back up to the crook of his hip. “_ Ah, ah, ah, _” he teased in a sing-song voice. 

Colin balked, barely daring to speak the idea into being. “Are you… are you not a bottom?” he asked. 

Davy’s grin widened. “Kind of,” he said.

***

“Uh,” Colin said uncertainly. Why had he agreed to this, again? Fully nude, he knelt on the fluffy rug, blinking at the pump bottle of lube that Davy had set down for him. Looking up, he saw the redhead peel off his white socks, one by one, his beautiful arse flexing underneath the tight fabric with his movements. The leggings had a kind of scrunch in the seam that only served to emphasize the deep cleft between Davy’s ample cheeks. Ah, right, that was why.

Davy smirked over his shoulder, digging his thumbs under the waistband of his leggings. Standing this close, all he had to do was bend his knee to trace up the underside of Colin’s erection with his toes.

“Uh,” Colin vocalised again. He forgot what he was going to say the instant Davy hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his yoga pants and pulled them down his hips. Colin’s breath hitched as two creamy, white cheeks spilled into view, and his eyes went wide as he caught a glimpse of a baby blue thong when Davy bent forward. It was right in front of him: if he just leaned closer he could--

“No,” Davy interrupted him in a pleasant tone, reaching back to lightly push Colin back by the forehead. The man looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes as he kicked his pants to the side and spun around neatly, plopping his prized behind down on the edge of the bed.

“How come?” Colin whined, feeling so much like a child.

“I want to watch your face,” Davy answered with a smug expression. He leaned back on his hands and stretched out his legs expectantly. 

Colin looked down at the man’s feet with a pounding heart. He could already feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck and he was sure that he was blushing. “I don’t get what I’m supposed to do,” he admitted, mouth running dry. That might have been a bit of a lie: he was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Lube up,” Davy told him, jabbing the inside of his thigh with his toes.

Colin startled, the touch coming in close to his balls. He straightened up and promptly reached for the bottle of lube to pump some out onto his hand. Swallowing, he tool hold of his traitorous cock, which was rock hard despite his embarrassment.

“Good boy,” Davy simpered, bringing one foot on either side of the brunet’s dick. “Now just push my feet together, and do what comes naturally.”

Colin licked his lips nervously, taking Davy’s feet in his hands. The heel of his thumb fit comfortably in the man’s arches, and he pushed them together around his cock and curiously bucked his hips forward. The friction came as a relief, eliciting a moan from his lips as he settled into a rocking rhythm. Running his thumbs over the balls of Davy’s feet, Colin found the skin almost as soft as his thighs, which was probably why it felt so fucking good. Honestly, the whole thing had an adolescent vibe to it, and Colin wasn’t complaining. It was almost nostalgic; the kind of sex-but-not-sex thing you’d do round your friend’s place after school, or hidden behind some cabins at a summer camp.

Fuck, the thought of Davy all dressed up at a camp counsellor really got Colin’s motor going. The same vintage athletic shorts that he wore at hockey, but this time in a bright, devil’s red with a matching clipboard and whistle strap. Tube socks, too, and a white t-shirt wet with summer rain so his nipples showed through the fabric. Colin tilted his head back and moaned.

A giggle rang like a bell in the bedroom and Colin opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure when he had closed them. Looking up with parted lips, he found Davy grinning down at him with keen interest. “Enjoying yourself, are you?” he asked sweetly.

Colin nodded quickly without words. He’d been humping Davy’s feet this whole time. The tip of his prick had already started to drool a steady stream of precum.

“Are you going to cum soon?” Davy asked.

“Y-yeah,” Colin replied, voice tight. Panting, he watched in wonder as the nymph on the bed peeled his crop top over his head. Colin had a moment to gawk at the man’s pink nipples before the white fabric was flung at his face with a giggle.

“Don’t get cum on my carpet,” Davy sniggered.

“R-right,” Colin nodded his head obediently, the movement dislodging the fabric from his face. It fell into his lap and Colin bit his lip, reluctantly taking one of his hands away from the man’s feet to grab the cloth. Not quite sure what to do with it in the meantime, he spread it out in front him as best he could with a flick of his wrist, then eagerly went back to pushing Davy’s feet together. 

“Maybe next time you can jerk off with my panties.” Davy grinned wickedly.

Next time?! “F-fuck,” Colin buckled forward, his orgasm hitting him fast and hard. Scrabbling for the tank top, he could only hope the first shot had hit the cloth as he wadded it up over his spurting cock with a loud moan. His breath grazed Davy’s knees before a pale shin pressed against his shoulder and levered his torso upright, exposing his trembling hips to Davy’s line of sight. 

The redhead was grinning like the cat who ate the cream, still leaning back on his hands. “Not bad,” he drawled, planting a foot over the cloth and slowly rubbing up and down. 

Colin felt the sensation right down to the root of his over-sensitised cock and he swore, spasming as he felt another weak spurt of cum get pulled from his balls. “Davy!” he yelled, grabbing the man’s ankle. Even then, the man flexed his sole and almost managed to make the brunet short-circuit with his attentions. “Jesus Christ!” He had to forcibly pull the man’s foot away to get him to stop teasing him. He could feel his prick twitching in the warm, slick mess he’d made of Davy’s shirt. Even that sensation was too much and he pulled it away with a grimace, carefully to wad it up with his cum on the inside. It’d be a bitch to get out of the fluffy rug.

“Sorry,” Davy tittered with a gleam in his eyes, not seeming sorry in the slightest, “I’m kind of mean.” He jerked his head in the direction of the door. “There’s a bathroom the next door down on your left. Wet a towel and bring it back for me.” He smiled, giving his slick feet a little wiggle where he still held them suspended in the air.

“R-right,” Colin stammered, shoving his way to his feet. While muscular, he was far from “beast” territory, but with his mind still fogged by an intense orgasm he felt like a lumbering bear. Staggering out into the hall with his plump cock beginning to soften between his legs, he grabbed the first towel he could find in the bathroom, ran it under the faucet and hurried back to Davy’s bedroom. 

“Didn’t take care of yourself, first?” Davy chimed, tilting his head to the side. 

“Fuck,” Colin cursed softly, looking down at himself. The thought of wiping himself off and then seeing to Davy’s feet with the soiled towel seemed wrong, somehow. He awkwardly half-turned back towards the door. “Should I...?”

“No,” Davy said sweetly. “I like that.” He made a beckoning motion with his finger, and Colin approached, bending over to wipe the man’s feet. He was promptly rapped on the knee by the man’s toes.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Davy scolded him in a sing-song, pointing down. “Knees.”

Colin blushed. “Sorry,” he said, sinking down to sit on his heels as he dutifully saw to Davy’s feet. Once they were nice and clean again, the redhead smiled and gently prised the towel from Colin’s hands. He came off the edge of the bed and joined the man on the floor, threading the fingers of one hand in the back of his hair as he used the other to gently clean up his cock. Colin felt a shiver run down his spine as the redhead leaned in close, planting a slow, wet kiss on his ear. “D-don’t,” he whimpered half-heartedly. “I’ll get hard again.”

“Hmm?” Davy hummed, pulling back a fraction. “And what’s wrong with that? You’re sexy when you’re hard,” he purred.

“D-davy, please…” Colin murmured, feeling in a daze. “You haven’t even…” He could see the bulge of the man’s cock pushing put his underwear. He hadn’t even gotten off yet. He thought it was only fair that he return the favour. He reached out with his hand, but Davy caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the redhead said with a pleasant smile, looking at the man eye to eye. “Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

“Huh?”


	2. Look

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Blythe noted dryly, leaning back in his seat. “You’d never think it from looking at him.”

Gripping his coffee cup in both hands, Colin frowned and leaned forward over the table, paranoid that someone might be listening in. The open plan of a department store cafe wasn’t exactly the fortress of solitude he’d prefer for their sordid talk, but he’d have to make do. He’d only even grabbed the man for a chat in the first place because they’d crossed paths in Menswear Intimates at Selfridges. Evidently, Colin’s little tryst with Davy had catapulted him to the status of men in the market for high-end underwear. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he hissed. “I would have gone about it a completely different way if I’d known!”

“I did tell you,” Blythe wrinkled his nose, “It’s not my fault you didn’t bloody listen.”

“What happened with you two?” Colin asked urgently.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Blythe smirked. “Did he let you cum?”

Colin made a choking sound which he masked poorly by taking a big swig of coffee. Spilling some out of the corner of his mouth, he grabbed his serviette from the saucer on the table and dabbed at it before it stained his shirt. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Lucky boy,” Blythe chuckled, completely unabashed by their topic of conversation. “I couldn’t hack it, myself.”

Colin’s eyes bulged. “What?” What the  _ hell  _ had Blythe gotten himself into? What had he,  _ Colin,  _ gotten himself into?!

“It got too intense for my liking,” Blythe drawled, finally looking away as he scratched at his neck. He sighed, sipping at his latte for a moment before he looked back at the blushing brunet with a smirk. “I’d be very interested in hearing about how it goes for you, though. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Colin struggled, and failed, to keep the look of distaste from showing on his face. Typical Blythe. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“Meaning,” Blythe leaned forward, “You tell me how it goes, and I’ll buy  _ you  _ the Moschino trunks. They’re a damn sight better than those depressing Tommy Hilfigers you’ve picked out, I can assure you.”

Scandalised, Colin looked down at his shopping basket. It was true that Moschinos were beyond the reach of his modest budget, particularly when one considered how much money he’d theoretically committed to keeping Davy’s attention for as long (and as many times) as possible. He couldn’t blow it all on pants. Eric Blythe, on the other hand, had a trust fund. “Bastard,” he swore softly, trusting his hand out over the table. “Deal. But you have to bring them in for me on Monday, I don’t want to carry them with me on my date.”

“Best of luck,” Blythe beamed, shaking his hand.

***

Later that day, Colin found himself sheepishly milling about the lobby of the movie theatre. He only had himself to blame, having shown up a full twenty minutes early. Doing his best not to give off any sad loner vibes, he messed about on his phone while he waited for Davy to arrive. The wait was roughly twenty minutes.

“Hiya,” Davy chimed, rocking up in a pair of very well-fitted light-wash jeans and a white muscle tee. It struck Colin as rather masculine outfit done queer, right down to the baby pink Converse exposed by his rolled up jean cuffs. He had a sneaking suspicion that despite their simplicity, the clothes were expensive, so Colin was still glad he’d worn his nice jeans and the lemon Lacoste tee his mum had bought him for Christmas.

“Hi, Davy,” Colin grinned, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Were you waiting long?” Davy asked.

“A while,” Colin admitted sheepishly, not wanting to lie.

“That’s adorable,” Davy smirked, taking his hand, “come on.” He led Colin towards the ticket line, but stopped about halfway and rounded on his heel as though he’d forgotten something. “Oh, can I just ask you one favour?”

“Sure,” Colin said, already sizing up the length of the line at the concession stand. Splitting up to queue for tickets and snacks separately was pretty standard fare at the cinema. He expected Davy to tell him which size popcorn and type of drink he wanted, but he didn’t expect the redhead to come in so close to his ear.

“Could you go take your briefs off?” Davy murmured. “You won’t be needing them.”

Colin did a double take. All around him, the scene of a standard movie theatre lobby continued complete normally, as if a bomb hadn’t just been dropped. Swallowing, he glanced at Davy to see if he’d heard him right. The man’s expression was unreadable; just a pleasant, Davy-esque smile as though he’d only asked for a KitKat and a medium coke. At a loss for words, Colin didn’t even reply. He just turned his head from the concession queue to the sign for the toilets and sort of drifted off, in a daze.

His heart started properly hammering once he was inside a cubicle and shucking his jeans off his hips. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He pulled his imitation Calvin Kleins off, awkwardly working them over his sneakers before wriggling back into his jeans. After carefully maneuvering his bare dick to one side to avoid catching it in his zipper, Colin was left clutching his underpants in his hands. What was he supposed to do with them? His pockets were already occupied by his wallet and keys. He  _ certainly  _ wasn’t going to be the fool who flooded the cinema by trying to flush a pair of pants down the loo.

His only choice seemed to be binning them. He was suddenly very glad he hadn’t worn the Moschino trunks out of Selfridges. They were safely somewhere in Blythe’s keeping. His much less expensive, knock-off boxer briefs, on the other hand… well, it was the end of the line for them. Listening at the cubicle door like some kind of madman, Colin did his best to gauge when no one was outside before darting out with his briefs bunched up in one hand. Making a beeline for the nearest bin, he dumped them inside and power-walked back out into the lobby like he was late for the previews.

Davy was waiting for him in the middle of an expanse of ugly carpet, holding a popcorn and a large soda. Colin peered at him as he drew closer.

“How did you get those so quickly?” he asked, glancing back at the line to the concession stand. There was no way he’d taken that long in the toilets. 

“I know someone who works here,” Davy chuckled, passing the soda to Colin. “Come on. We’re sitting at the back.”

***

They did, indeed, sit at the very back of the theatre, filling Colin with a horny mix of unease and anticipation as the previews played. Just what was Davy planning, exactly? What did Blythe mean by ‘too intense’? 

“Hey,” Davy’s lips tickled Colin’s ear. Snapping to attention, the man looked to his right and watched as the redhead took his wrist and lifted his arm up off the arm rest between them, pulling it over his shoulders instead. Davy settling in close to his side, and Colin’s mind went blank, squeezing the man’s shoulder with a swoon. He smelled like vanilla, somehow. Some kind of perfume. God, he smelled so good. 

If this was the sum of their afternoon and the underwear thing was just a psych-out, honestly, Colin still would have been satisfied. With his freshman year full of one night stands and Grindr hookups, he’d come to miss the simple sensation of having another warm body up close for an extended period of time. Yes, he’d be perfectly happy with a cosy couple of hours.

Davy seemed to have other ideas. When the advertisements petered out into actual movie previews, the man turned his head to blow gently into Colin’s ear, making him shiver. 

“You alright?” the brunet whispered, looking his way.

Davy just smiled with his eyes as he reached over to grip the waistband of Colin’s jeans. He flipped open the button with a well-practiced movement and watched as Colin managed to turn pale even in the bluish light of the cinema screen. The zipper came next, slowly, so it would be quiet.

Colin’s mouth ran dry as he looked at Davy, and then at the seats around them in a panic. Their row was mostly empty - there was one lone man to his left who was so far away, he probably couldn’t see anything, especially with the soda in the cup holder. In front of them, though… there was easily a few dozen people in the theatre. If any one of them looked behind them, could they figure out what he and Davy were doing? It would all depend on their faces. Davy wouldn’t bat an eye, he was sure, but Colin didn’t have a poker face to save his life!

“D-davy,” he whispered.

“Shhhh,” the redhead hushed, laying his head on the man’s shoulder. 

Colin’s mouth hung agape as Davy spread open the fly of his jeans pulled out his dick just as a tribute to the late Stan Lee flashed up on the screen. Admittedly, Colin wasn’t the most diehard Marvel fan, but he’d never felt so guilty in a movie theatre. Especially when Davy had coaxed his dick to half-mast in mere moments. Swallowing, he leaned back in his seat and did his best to keep his expression neutral as Davy played with his cock. And ‘playing’ really was the key word: once Colin’s full erection was sticking out of his jeans, the redhead’s attentions immediately slowed to a crawl, making a ring out of his thumb and forefinger and stroking ever-so-lightly up and down the shaft. At times, he seemed content just to hold it in his fist and feel it twitch in his hand, idly tracing patterns on the head with the tip of his thumb.

Colin wasn’t sure to make of this. It was surreal, like no hand job he’d ever had before. For starters, it had already exceeded the length of time most hands took to get the job done. The movie was… at some point or other. He’d only really been pretending to pay attention to it. There were super heroes. And a space ship. Davy’s hand curled around the head of his prick and started to rub him off in little twisting motions, eliciting a whimper from Colin. 

Gentle or not, it was only a matter of time before Colin’s cock began to drip. The pre spread over Davy’s hand and just made it feel even better. Colin bit his lip as he glanced down at his swollen erection. What would happen if he actually came inside the theatre? Would it hit the seats in front of them? Could they clean it up somehow?

Even as he was trying to plan his orgasm, Davy’s hand slowed to a standstill again, practically just holding his cock rather than stroking it. Colin’s breath caught in his throat before he could vocalise a whine of complaint. Brow furrowed, he tried to push his hips forward to fuck the man’s hand. Davy gripped the base of his cock firmly in response, stopping him from moving and causing an aching twinge in his balls.

“Please,” Colin gasped, as quietly as he could.

Davy’s lips came back close to his ear and he murmured just one, husky word: “No.” Then his hand started moving again.

What did he mean,  _ no _ ?! Colin’s heart leapt in desperation. 

_ Lucky boy,  _ Blythe’s words echoed in his head.

Did he-- did he meant that he wasn’t going to get to cum? Surely not. It surely wasn’t even  _ possible _ , with the way Davy had picked up some of his precum on his fingers and gotten a nice little piston motion on the head of his cock, he could already feel his balls begin to draw tight and --  _ no! _

Suddenly, his prick was bobbing in mid-air. No hand, no stroking; no cumming. Helpless, Colin grimaced down at it in the dim light, practically able to see the twitching that might have built into orgasm slowly ebb away. There was a quiet giggle to his right. Scandalised, he turned to look at Davy, only to have the man pop a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. Colin pouted as he chewed. This wasn’t fair! He wanted to cum so badly. 

Davy pinched his nipple, erect and pushing through the fabric of his shirt. The resulting yip from Colin was fortunately swallowed by an explosion on the big screen. 

“You’re so mean,” Colin muttered, sulking.

The redhead only nodded, mirth dancing in his eyes. Colin’s jaw dropped as his hand dropped down to his crotch again. No, surely not agai-- oh, god. It felt even better the third time round. By now, Colin’s cock was just one big, fat nerve, completely at the mercy of Davy’s fingertips. He sunk lower and lower in his seat as the redheaded nymph slowly fisted his cock up and down. Up… and down. Up… and down…

Colin didn’t dare move his hips. Davy might stop if he did. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cum or cry. He wasn’t sure of anything any more. He sunk lower and lower into his seat and tried to focus on keeping quiet while Davy made his brain melt out of his skull. Watching the movie was a lost cause. Time lost all meaning. All there was was his cock, Davy’s hand and the occasional tickle of air in his ear from those nasty, cherubic lips. 

Colin lost count of the number of times the man brought him to the brink of orgams and back down again, never letting him cum. He had no idea how long it had gone on for, but his cock was so hard it almost  _ hurt _ . He could see it sticking up in front of him, flushed red and throbbing. When Davy tried to touch him again, he grit his teeth and thrashed his head with a desperate grimace. 

Pale fingers reached up and grabbed his cheek, turning his face towards the man. “Shhh,” Davy cooed, threading his fingers through the back of the man’s hair and stroking upward in a soothing motion. “You did so good.”

“Please,” Colin pleaded in a tiny voice. “Davy… p-please, I  _ have  _ to cum…”

“No,” Davy chimed softly, shaking his head as he carried on petting Colin’s hair. “No, baby. It wouldn’t even feel good now.”

Wouldn’t it? Colin wasn’t sure what to think any more. Davy seemed to know a lot more about this than he did. Sniffing, he squirmed in his seat, feeling the weight of his swollen prick fall against his thigh. He could hardly bear to be touched any more. Maybe Davy was right. What had he done to him?!

“Shhh,” the redhead cooed again, giving the man a gentle kiss on the lips. “It’s alright. You’re alright. There’s plenty of time for it to go down.”

Was there? Colin blearily opened his eyes towards the movie screen. Whatever was going on didn’t seem like a big finale. Maybe there would be enough time to stop him from walking out of the theatre with a tent in his jeans.

Davy brought the soda straw to Colin’s lips and he quietly took a drink, still sulking to himself at the turn of events. The redhead occasionally fed him popcorn throughout the rest of the movie, which was still easy enough to follow even though he hadn’t been paying attention to start with. When his cock did finally go soft, Davy tucked him back into his jeans and even did up his zipper for him. 

Descending the cinema steps after the credits rolled felt like coming down from a mountain top. Maybe the ordeal had done something to the blood pressure in his head.

“Poor baby,” Davy simpered, taking his hand. “Are you going to sulk all day?”

Colin sniffed in reply. He supposed he’d have to console himself with an afternoon of cautious masturbation back home - if he could even bear to touch himself at all. His prick felt ominously tender against the denim of his jeans.

“You’ll feel better when we go back to my place,” Davy said, kissing his cheek as he led him out of the theatre.

Colin guessed he had other plans.


	3. That Peach

Colin saw that there were still no other shoes on the shoe rack in the pristine, white-tiled entryway of Davy’s townhouse. 

“Are your parents home?” he asked as he stooped to loosen his laces.

“Colin, please,” Davy chortled, peeling off his shirt as he started up the stairs. “I’m a sadist, not a sociopath. Of course they’re not home.”

Colin looked up and saw a flash of the man’s pale chest before he disappeared around the landing, dropping his shirt on the ground behind him. 

“Get that for me, will you?” Davy called backed airily as he carried on upstairs.

Colin swallowed and looked back to his shoelaces, working faster. Wriggling out of his sneakers, he shoved them onto the all-but-empty shoe rack and jogged up the stairs. When he picked up the puddle of white cloth on the first landing, he spied a sock a few steps up, and another up even further. Collecting the clothes as he went, he felt hope swell in his chest when he found Davy’s discarded jeans on the next landing.

At the top of the stairs was a sign from God. Colin stared at it for a moment with bated breath. A periwinkle-blue lace thong hanging from the banister. He sprinted up the last flight of stairs, hugging the piles of clothes in his arms, the panties burning hot in his hand as he made a beeline for Davy’s bedroom.

“ _ Ah! _ ” A sharp scolding stopped him at the doorway. “Laundry hamper.”

Pressing his lips together impatiently, Colin raced into the bathroom and dumped the lot into the hamper. He arrived back at the bedroom in time to see a perfectly nude Davy laying out a towel across the end of his bed. 

Nudity was very becoming on Davy, as was every other article of clothing on earth, in Colin’s opinion (hessian sacks included). It occurred to him that this was the first time he had actually seen the man’s dick. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or just intrigued to learn that Davy had taken some kind of measure to remove all his pubes. Truly, he would have spotted his red hair against that alabaster skin from a mile away. 

Interested, he decided, was the right word. He was deeply interested. He only had a few more moments to take in the view, however, before Davy lay on top of the towel on his stomach, propping up his face with both hands.

“Strip down to your boxers,” the redhead ordered him sweetly, kicking his feet in the air.

Colin faltered. “I don’t have any boxers,” he reminded the man, hand already drifting to the hem of his T-shirt.

“Guess you’ll just have to strip, then,” Davy said with a shit-eating grin. 

Colin let out a faint huff of laughter as he pulled his shirt over his head. It was fun, he had to admit. He couldn’t stop the grin from pulling at his lips as he unzipped his jeans in front of the man. His cock still felt faintly swollen; not sore, but just… heavier, somehow, like he was just so much more  _ aware  _ of it than usual. 

“Could you bring that jar from the dresser for me?” Davy bat his eyelashes.

It was easy to see which jar he meant. Curious, Colin wandered over to it and picked it up. It looked too expensive for the likes of him to even recognise the branding. He unscrewed the lid and was hit by a whiff of a familiar vanilla scent. It was some kind of lotion. He looked over his shoulder at Davy with wide eyes as he put two and two together.

Davy just smiled and nodded, making a beckoning motion with a crook of his finger.

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Colin said breathlessly, coming over to the bed and straddling the back of Davy’s thighs. He couldn’t believe those two, perfect mounds were right in front of him.

“Start with my back,” Davy said breezily, settling down with his temple resting on folded arms.

“R-Right,” Colin stammered, hastily scooping out a generous amount of lotion. His imagination was already running away with him - never mind how leaning forward to work the redhead’s shoulders pressed his package up against the cleft of Davy’s ass. “I wondered how you smelled so good,” he said wistfully, spreading the vanilla cream over the man’s back before squeezing his hands along the slope of Davy’s shoulders.

“Mmm,” Davy hummed in reply. “Thank you. I have it made. Use as much as you want - I buy in bulk.”

No wonder his skin was so soft. Having Davy laid out nude underneath him was hot enough, but the thought of him laid out under him with slick, slippery skin was another thing entirely. Colin’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he scooped more lotion from the jar and worked it between his palms. He let his fingers dip down the man’s sides, tracing the sensitive curve of his ribs just under the man’s arms. The way Davy’s body gave a little spasm and arched in response to the touch was thrilling. Colin went all the way down to the subtle curve of the man’s waist before he circled back and pushed the heels of his hands up across the plane of his back.

“Fuck,” Davy swore quietly, and Colin felt himself get a little hard again. He couldn’t help it, especially not as he massaged his way down Davy’s back and got closer and closer to the main event. He had to scoot back to take in the view of Davy’s arse in its full glory. This meant his half-hard cock was no longer resting on those gorgeous curves, but perhaps that was for the best, because Colin’s head was rapidly filling with ideas that made his breath quicken. Namely, the though of making a bridge over that deep cleft with his thumbs and just sliding his prick home between those supple cheeks. It was a scary thought, in a way. If he tried it without asking… well.

Davy  _ really  _ didn’t seem like the type of man who’d tolerate any shit he didn’t explicitly give permission for.

Colin contented himself with touching with his hands, for now. He could feel the firmness of the muscle underneath, of course, but there was at least an inch of fat to sink his fingers into as he worked the vanilla cream into the man’s pale skin. It was almost hypnotic, in a way, as he watched the flesh ripple as he massaged the man’s arse in circular motions. He let his thumbs glide along the man’s cleft but he didn’t dare pull the cheeks apart. Colin could almost imagine a heat emanating from the tight, pink hole hidden within.

“Davy?” Colin found himself asking in a daze as he pushed his hands up under the swell of Davy’s buttocks, squeezing his upper thighs and marvelling at the way it just made that peach look even juicier.

“Hmm?” the man hummed, sounding thoroughly relaxed.

“If… if you wanted to,” Colin began, wildly uncertain of how best to phrase his proposal, “I could… you know. I could go slow, if you’ve never done anything with your arse before.”

Davy’s blue eyes cracked open and he lifted his head to look over his shoulder with a sleepy, bemused smirk. “You think I’m a virgin?”

Colin’s face burned. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed, or red-cocked, if you counted his slowly developing hard-on. “Um,” he said, voice rising in pitch. Davy had to be a virgin, didn’t he? Colin knew he wasn’t the most assertive lover, but if even the likes of  _ Blythe  _ hadn’t taken Davy to Pound Town, then surely no one had.

Davy tittered, quirking his eyebrows as he watched the man get increasingly awkward. “Sit up for a moment,” he told him, pulling himself forward on his stomach.

Colin rose up obediently on his knees, freeing Davy’s legs. He watched as Davy’s head disappeared over the edge of the bed, leaving him with a rather pleasant view of the man’s behind as he bent over the corner of the mattress. He heard the telltale sound of a drawer opening under the bed frame, and a moment later, Davy emerged, twisting to one side like a tasteful nude painting, crystal jelly dildo in hand. It was baby blue, because of course it was. 

“I play with my arse all the time,” Davy told the man confidently, chuckling at the shock on the brunet’s face. “I’m just kind of private about it.”

“Oh,” Colin said, sitting back on his heels. Was he… extra picky, then? Had Colin just not made the cut? “Is there… a reason you won’t let me touch you, then?” he asked, confused.

It was Davy’s turn to raise his eyebrows. He put his hand on his hip. “You’ve just been giving me a massage,” he pointed out matter of factly.

“You know what I mean,” Colin frowned. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

“I  _ do  _ feel good,” Davy countered, leaning back on his elbows with a wistful grin at the ceiling. “I almost made you cry in the theatre.”

“I mean like,  _ cumming _ , good,” Colin sulked.

“Huh,” Davy remarked, looking the man up and down. “Most guys aren’t too concerned with that.”

“I just-- wait, what?!” Colin cut himself short, doing a double-take.  _ Most  _ guys hadn’t been concerned with that? The poor thing! “You mean no one’s been looking after you?” he asked, aghast.

“Most of them don’t even _like_ me by the time I’m through,” Davy sniggered, bringing a knuckle up to his teeth. “Although a lot of men have mixed motives when getting into something like this,” he added with a wicked expression.

Colin wasn’t sure he wanted to know about all the sordid details of Davy’s past. He decided the best course of action was to focus on the matter at hand. “It just sounds a bit horrible,” he insisted with a furrow in his brow. “Having all these men who aren’t even taking the time to make you feel good, too.”

“I  _ told  _ you,” Davy said, wagging the dildo in Colin’s direction, “I  _ do  _ feel good. You’ve got to stop thinking in black and white so much, Colin. I mean, god, you should understand that after today.”

Colin startled, once more quite aware of his chubbed cock swinging between his legs. He glanced down at his before looking back at Davy, who was drinking in the sight of him with a smug smirk.

“Did it feel good?” the redhead asked silkily.

It did, but Colin felt an initial stab of stubbornness goading him to deny it on instinct. Swallowing, he folded his arms and looked away with a pout. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Davy hummed knowingly, tossing the toy onto the bed and twisting round onto his knees to crawl closer. 

Colin felt butterflies in his stomach as the beautiful man drew in close, tracing a thumb up the curve of his throat and over his Adam’s apple. Something about Davy’s blue-eyed stare rendered him mute, waiting for what the man had to say.

“I said,” Davy repeated gently, “did it feel good?”

Colin pressed his lips together tightly. When Davy’s other hand encircled his cock again, a whine got trapped in the brunet’s throat. Whimpering, he nodded quickly, managing to splutter out a small “Yeah.”

“That’s what I thought,” Davy purred, pulling him in for a kiss. Colin moaned into the man’s mouth, wrapping his hands around his waist on instinct. Davy did the same, releasing his twitching prick and grabbing a handful of Colin’s rear instead. He could feel the redhead’s hard-on pressing up against his stomach as they tightened their embrace. The man had to have incredible self control.

Colin supposed that was rather the point.

“Mmm… alright,” Davy chuckled as he broke away for air, regarding Colin with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Huh?” Colin asked, head still foggy from tasting Davy’s tongue.

“If you really want to see me cum,” Davy smiled. “I guess you can meet Lars.”

“Who’s Lars?”


	4. One of those boyfriends

“Who the _ hell _is Lars?” Blythe complained.

“He wouldn’t say,” Colin shrugged. “He said I had to meet him to understand.”

“Is he Scandinavian?” Blythe inquired with an oddly conspiratory tone.

“I don’t know!” Colin snapped. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Well,” Blythe said, raising his eyebrows with a knowing look. “You know what they say about Scandinavians.”

Colin rolled his eyes. He had no idea what they said about Scandinavians, but he was fairly certain that Blythe was full of it. “Sod off, Eric,” he swore quietly, snatching the Selfridges bag out of the playboy’s hand. He surreptitiously inspected the goods, though he was plagued by the feeling that it was more like checking a carton of eggs at the supermarket than checking a briefcase of money in a secret deal. Still, he found the Moschino trunks to his liking: a tasteful black pair with a bear stitched onto the white waistband and another--

“Hey! What the hell, Blythe?” Colin complained, immediately suspicious as he separated the pairs of trunks with one hand. A second pair: gummy bear print. “The deal was for one pair!”

“Whoops, silly me,” Blythe drawled, inspecting his fingernails. “I guess you’ll just have to tell me about the next time, too, to break even.” He smirked, patting the man’s cheek.

“That wasn’t the deal!” Colin scolded him, “I’m not your personal bloody tabloid magazine!”

“It’s called erotica when it’s about fucking,” Blythe shot back smoothly.

“I’m not doing it,” Colin snapped, yanking the offending trunks out of the bag and shoving them in Eric’s direction. It was mortifying enough having to recount his movie theatre misadventures _ once _ , let alone having to do it for Blythe _ again _. Something about the way the grinning playboy had hung on his every word made Colin uncomfortable.

“Hey! No backsies!” Blythe complained, pushing the underpants away. Throwing his palms up in the air, he quickly backed off before Colin could foist the trunks back upon him. “Besides,” he added with a particularly smug expression, “only Versace graces these noble hips.”

Colin had to suppress the urge to beat Eric to death with the pair of Moschino trunks. Balling the fabric up in his fists, he felt colour rise in his cheeks. “Just piss off, then!” he yelled, throwing the underwear after the retreating man. The trunks made it about three feet before they fell to the ground in a very underwhelming fashion. Sulking, Colin was left to pick them up and flounce off to class in a huff.

***

Later that night, Colin’s temper had considerably cooled down thanks to a mixture of time, only semi-interesting lectures and the anticipation of seeing Davy actually enjoying himself, for once. Although he was too sure about the location: Davy had texted him an address that had turned out to be a park. Even more unnervingly, once he’d arrive, further texts from the redhead had directed him off the quaint, lamp post-lit path and onto a trodden dirt track that went behind a thicket of trees. With only a measly bit of moonlight to guide him, Colin felt equally at risk of twisting an ankle as he did of getting mugged. He was about to get out his phone and use the torch app when he spotted the orange glow of a cigarette nearby. 

A rough-faced man was leaning against a tree, having a smoke. “Alright?” he said, nodding with his chin.

“Alright,” Colin answered politely, trying not to speed up as he passed by. If he wasn’t so unnerved, he might have thought the man was giving him the eye. He started to get the creeping feeling that he was trekking along something a little more than a simple path, so he decided against the blinding glare of his torch app and settled for the gentle glow of his home screen to light the way for his feet. His style of lighting meant he never really saw the faces of two men passing by from the opposite direction.

“Great show back there,” one sniggered, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. 

Oh, god. It was a cruising park. Of course it was. Colin had only heard rumours about these sorts of places. While he wasn’t exactly a prude, Grindr hookups were more his speed. Of course _ Davy _ , ever full of surprises, would know about the wild, old-school way of meeting strangers for sex. Or meeting people he already knew for sex, he supposed, since he had referred to Lars by name. Was he actually _ doing _ anything back here in the bushes? The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. It was Davy, after all. They’d already fooled around in a movie theatre. Was doing it in a park at night really that far a leap? Could people _ see _him?!

Colin felt his pulse pick up as he carried on down the path. He felt that he had a pretty good idea of what this ‘show’ was, and his first glimpse of alabaster skin in the moonlight confirmed it. He took his eyes off him for only a moment, quickly looking around for perverts. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared: instead of the crowd of leery wankers he’d imagined, there were only a few that he could see, watching from a distance. Another smoker, an older couple leaning against a tree and another, and a middle-aged man who seemed to be in the act of walking past very, very slowly so he could cop an eyeful. And what a sight it was: from where he was, it looked like a dark shape was breaking up the pale shape of Davy’s right leg. As he drew closer, Colin saw that it was actually a pair of exercise shorts clinging to his thigh. His other leg, unrestrained, was bent to plant his foot against the trunk of a large oak tree, spread wide to make room for the man kneeling between his legs -- Lars, Colin assumed.

Colin wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Going right up to them seemed rude, somehow. Fortunately, Davy opened his eyes and saw him, beckoning him closer with a breathless laugh. “Colin!”

Colin jumped. Should they be using their real names? He didn’t know. Pressing his lips together, he shoved his phone into his pocket and jogged to rest of the short distance to the oak tree, arriving with an awkward wave. “Hi, Davy,” he said softly, looking down at the brunet who was sucking Davy off, “and… Lars?”

The man used one hand to rake back a section of his shaggy mop of hair, revealing his face. His green eyes were hazy but nevertheless, he managed to smile with them. His mouth was completely occupied by the shaft of Davy’s cock. The eye contact lasted for only a moment before he let go and got back to work. He was white, but he didn’t look Scandinavian - at least, not in Colin’s opinion.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Davy asked dreamily, arching his back against the tree trunk. Reach out, he took one of Colin’s hands and interlaced their fingers. Colin’s heart skipped a beat and he squeezed Davy’s hand back in kind, feeling heat spread across his cheeks. The physical contact suddenly made it all so very _ real _. He was a part of this now. He could only stare in wonder as Lars bobbed his head in a fast, fluid rhythm. The man was a machine! Colin wanted to complain that he could have sucked Davy’s dick, too, but he honestly didn’t think he could have done it that well.

“Yeah,” he answered absently, trying not to think about the men watching them from the darkness. “Do you… do this often?” His eyes flicked to Davy’s face, and he still found himself adoring the sight of the redhead flushed with a arousal, despite the circumstances.

“Every now and then,” Davy answered with quickened breath, managing a giddy laugh as he ground his hips up against Lars’ face. “It’s fun.”

Colin wasn’t sure if ‘fun’ was the right word for this activity. It was thrilling, certainly; definitely exhilarating, but also probably illegal. He’d never even stolen a packet of sweets from the shops as a child. Public sex was throwing him right into the deep end. But Davy was here, and he was holding his hand, and he seemed to be enjoying himself more than Colin could have ever dreamed. He watched, captivated, as the man’s eyes crewed shut and his soft lips parted in a moan. This was really happening! Colin jumped as he felt the man squeeze his hand tight; heard him whine, saw his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

“Are you gonna cum?” Colin asked in wonder.

Panting, Davy seemed to nod. The next time his lips split apart, no sound came out, and Colin was surprised that the redhead would fight to keep silent when it seemed like it felt so good. He watched as Davy reached out with his other hand and grabbed a fistful of Lars' hair, his breathing getting more and more intense as he rode the man’s face to orgasm. A single, stifled whimper interrupted his heaving breath as he buckled forward with a deep furrow in his brow. With his beautiful face contorted in pleasure, he rode it out for just another moment before he released his friend’s scalp and let Lars back off.

To his credit, Lars drew back off Davy’s spent cock with tight lips and not a drop of spit nor semen was spilled. His first breath came not as a choking gasp but a deep, well-practiced inhalation. “_ Maaaan _ ,” he finally spoke, drawing the word out like a ram’s bleat. “Davy. _ Chill _, dude. You gotta let me do my thing.” 

Colin’s eyes boggled; the man’s accent was so thickly American that he could have been plucked right out of one of those TV shows about Californian high schoolers. He was most definitely _ not _Scandinavian. 

Davy hummed in apology, reaching down to fix the man’s hair (though it ended up looking much the same). Now that Colin could get a proper look at him in the moonlight, he found him reasonably handsome. His shaggy hair was clipped short at the neck, but the top was so long that it obscured his eyes. It only served to accentuate his full, sensuous mouth even more. Right now, with his lips flushed from fresh cocksucking and wet with a sheen of spit, it almost looked like he was wearing makeup. It was definitely his mouth that made him beautiful, Colin thought. He wondered if he was a good kisser, too.

“Wanna try?” Davy interrupted his reverie with a cheeky grin.

“What?!” Colin startled. Davy had cum less than a minute ago and he was already back into his mischief, it seemed. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the offer - or exactly what it entailed, either.

“Oh, hey man,” Lars’ lips spread into an easy-going smile as he addressed Colin for the the first time. “I’m totally good for another round, if you want. I do this all the time.”

“Um,” Colin’s voice rose an octave, feeling very put on the spot. He turned to Davy for help, but the redhead just giggled, carefully working his left foot back through the other leg of his shorts so he could put his cock away. “I think might be a little advanced for me,” he hissed, glancing back over his shoulder. He couldn’t make out anyone in the darkness (for all he knew, they’d packed up and left as soon as Davy was done) but the thought of being watched seemed far too distracting to let himself relax.

“Won’t you give it a try?” Davy cooed, giving Colin puppy-dog eyes. “He’s so good.”

“I just don’t think I could enjoy it,” Colin said, clearly tense.

“You should like, try it blindfolded,” Lars suggested in a helpful drawl. “It’s dope for stage fright.”

“Kinky,” Davy beamed, his eyes set squarely on Colin.

Fuck. The moment Colin saw that smile and the gleam in Davy’s blue eyes, he knew he was done for. His urge to please him was too great. “... Fine,” he said meekly.

“Here,” Lars said, loosening a navy tie from around his neck and handing it to Davy. Colin’s jaw dropped as he recognised that the man was wearing a movie theatre uniform under his jacket. Scandal! Before he could ask any questions about what they’d done in the theatre, Davy was already pressing the fabric over his eyes. Everything went dark as the blindfold was tied behind Colin’s head, and he swallowed as he felt himself being guided to lean back against the tree. 

“He’s clean, right?” Lars asked, reaching up to cup the man’s package through his sweatpants.

“Squeaky,” Davy quipped brightly.

“Awesome.”

Colin’s breath hitched as he felt his waistband being dragged down, exposing his boxers.

“Oh, cool, it’s a bear,” Lars said.

The bloody Moschino trunks. Colin could have buried his face in his hands, but Davy had guided them back to grab ahold of some conveniently located tree branches. He squirmed as he felt his trunks being pulled down too, and Lars’ hot breath huffing over his cock and balls. He outright yelped when Davy suddenly yanked his T-shirt up to expose his chest. “H-hey!” he protested.

“What?” Davy chimed innocently as his arm snaked around behind the brunet’s back. “I want to play, too.” Pressing in close, he planted a kiss on Colin’s cheek as he tweaked both of the man’s nipples at the same time. The pink nubs hardened instantly, making Colin grunt. But that feeling was nothing compared to what Lars was doing to his prick.

Taking the base in his hand, he kissed the head as though he knew it, taking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the tip while Colin was still half-soft. That didn’t last long. The man had a mouth like a hoover with magic fingers. “J-jesus Christ,” Colin sputtered, jaw dropping as he felt his cock harden on Lars’ tongue in record time.

“Told you,” Davy giggled in his ear, grabbing his shoulders fondly. “Ease up, Lars,” he said, looking down at the American. “I don’t want him to cum _ too _quickly.”

Lars seemed to oblige, suddenly no longer doing quite so many things with his tongue. He settled into a slow, leisurely suck, taking Colin’s length so deep into his throat that the tip of his nose brushed against his stomach. Colin groaned, tipping his head back against the tree trunk. It was the best head he’d ever had in his life. Blindfolded like this, it seemed like all his other senses were heightened, from the distant smell of cigarette smoke in the night air to hearing the lew, wet sound made by Lars’ lips around his prick. Feeling Davy’s hands roam over his chest, and then his tongue lap at his exposed throat. He almost forgot he was doing this in a park, but the crunching sound of footsteps was a sharp reminder.

“... Bit wild for a Tuesday, isn’t it?” An older man’s voice muttered. 

“‘Ere, is that a blindfold?” A distinctly more femme voice piped up. “Are you alright, love?” he asked loudly. Colin felt his heart leap at the direct address. Why would they be speaking to him at a time like this?! Stupid fucking blindfold! Swallowing hard, he managed to shake his head yes before he clammed up completely.

Davy’s lips came away from Colin’s neck where he was in the process of bringing up a brilliant hickey. “It’s for his identity,” he called back cheekily. “He’s a pop star.”

The quip was met with a scream of laughter. “Right! Well, have fun. Come on, Travis.” 

“Kids these days…” There were more footsteps as the couple left.

“What the fuck,” Colin whispered, gasping. His panic was quickly eclipsed by the feeling of Lars backing up and sucking the head of his cock like a lollipop. “Aaaah, fuck...”

“Relax,” Davy chuckled, teeth grazing over his neck. “You’re fine. Just think about cumming.”

It was hard not to, with the things Lars was doing to him. He’d sped up again, nursing on his prick with expert skill. The way he hummed in his throat sent a shiver through Colin’s middle. “_ Aah! _” he cried out loudly, feeling himself get close. His fussing was met by Davy hushing him softly, pulling him into a deep kiss. Colin guessed it was to keep him quiet, but he wasn’t complaining. He came like that, his moans muffled by Davy’s lips and tongue, hips bucking needily into Lars' wet and willing mouth. Clinging to the tree branches for dear life, he experienced the benefit of not grabbing the American by the head: the man’s throat enveloped him for the full length of his orgasm, slowly sliding back with gentle, teasing attention from his tongue. 

As soon as Davy let him go and peeled away the blindfold, Colin let out a little yelp as Lars' tongue flecked against his over-sensitive slit. His vision came back into focus just in time to see the American wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and a rather self-satisfied smile. “That was wild,” he said with another easy-going grin.

Colin didn’t think he’d ever met a more laid back man in his life. Gawking, he felt his knees buckle and he slid down the trunk of the tree to sit at its base, pushing his gently throbbing cock back into his underwear as an afterthought. “Who are you?” he asked, hardly able to believe that someone like Lars existed.

“Oh, I’m just a guy from the States,” Lars explained rather unhelpfully. “I guess I’m like, an artiste,” he sniggered.

“I did an internship in Silicon Valley after sixth form,” Davy explained, sitting down next to Colin. “My father’s company has offices there.” He pulled a nearby backpack between his legs and started rummaging through it. Colin hadn’t noticed it until now.

“Yeah, man,” Lars recalled, crawling forward to take a seat against the tree trunk on Colin’s other side. He leaned against Colin’s should as though they’d known each other for much longer, but Colin supposed the familiarity was fair given what they’d just done together. “Davy talked me into moving over here. I’ve gotta say, I made more money in the states but like, this place is way more my speed, you know?”

“Huh?” Colin didn’t follow. Looking at the man’s movie theatre uniform, he didn’t imagine that kind of job would pay much more in the States than it would here. In fact, didn’t the USA have some kind of hideous minimum wage problem?

“Yeah, the suits back home paid like a looottt more to get their dick sucked but they were also like, really uptight? Like, wouldn’t even let me swallow in case I kept some of their DNA-uptight. Crazy, right?” Lars grimaced. “The people here are kind of rude but at least the cruising is waaay more laid back. You know?”

Colin _ didn’t _know. He hadn’t ever rented his mouth out: not here, nor in the States. “Right,” he agreed with single nod, hoping the gesture would mask just how out of his depth he was. He turned to Davy for help, only to see the man idly blow out of plume of thick vapour that smelled a bit like apple pie.

“Oh, dude,” Lars leaned across Colin with a curious expression in his hazy eyes. “Didn’t you quit?”

“It’s a vape,” Davy answered with a shrug, taking another drag. He pushed the jet of smoke out the side of his mouth with the habit of a former smoker. “It doesn’t even have nicotine in it any more.”

“So…” Colin piped up, still struggling to make sense of the relationship between the two men. “So, are you friends, or does… does Davy um, pay you to do anything?” He asked carefully, hoping he wasn’t being offensive.

Davy let out a snort of laughter.

“Oh, nah,” Lars chuckled. “Everything I do with Davy is like, pro boner.”

“I think it’s pronounced ‘pro bono’,” Colin suggested with a wince.

“Nah,” Lars disagreed with a grin, shaking his head.

“We’re basically friends with benefits,” Davy finally spoke up with a sly look in his eyes, putting Colin out of his misery. “It’s not that different from you and me, really. I just don’t tell many people about Lars.”

“Right,” Colin said, feeling equal measures of relieved and curious. Why would Davy keep someone like Lars a secret? What they did together wasn’t exactly a private affair. 

“I think you’re like, the first guy Davy has introduced me to liiiike… a really long time,” Lars said.

“How long is that, then?” Colin asked.

“Like, ever.” Lars let out a huff of laughter.

Colin raised his eyebrows, turning back to Davy. “Don’t get a big head about it,” the redhead told him silkily, taking another puff before passing the vape pen across to Lars. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m going to be nice all the time.”

“O-okay,” Colin blushed, smiling.

“Let’s get pizza.” Lars declared, vapour spilling over his lips.


	5. Who understands those guys?

Colin hadn’t imagined the night ending up this way, with the three of them gathered around a table with a red-and-white checkered cloth. Lars had led them straight to the small Italian restaurant tucked away in a nearby side street, so he had to assume it was a regular pit stop for the pair of them after their park-based activities. Honestly, after receiving the best blowjob of his life… yes, he could eat. They ordered an extra large pepperoni pizza to share, with regular soda for Lars, diet soda for Colin, and black coffee for Davy. Davy paid.

“So you really just met in the States and Davy convinced you to move to England, just like that?” Colin asked again, still amazed. He knew Davy could be persuasive, but an international sea change was a big deal. “How did you even meet?”

“Oh, uh,” Lars laughed over the the top of his soda with a sideways glance at Davy. “Like, I don’t really remember? I was high like, aaalll the time back then.”

_ Weed _. “Of course!” Colin snapped his fingers, pointing at Lars. “That’s how you’re so laid back!”

“Heyyy, man,” Lars gave a good-natured laugh, setting his glass down and raising his palms in mock surrender. “There’s a lot worse you could be on in the Valley, you know?” 

Colin’s eyes widened and he gave a knowing nod even though he’d never been to the States. It was easy to imagine the smorgasbord of hard drugs that would be making the rounds in a business district packed with wealthy tech companies. 

“It’s a high stress environment,” Dave said dryly, looking down at his reflection in the surface of his coffee. “I wouldn’t like to go back.”

“Shit, me neither.” Lars chuckled, “We left a lot of stuff behind there.”

“Mm,” Davy hummed, sipping his coffee. He looked oddly pensive, now - not at all as chipper as he had been in the park. Colin frowned as he glanced between the two of them, wondering what could be the matter. He supposed there might have been a much bigger story about their meeting in Silicon Valley than they were letting on. Now that he thought about it, it seemed incredibly suspicious that Lars would forget anything at all about meeting Davy, stoner or otherwise. He had to be lying -- but why?

Colin would just have to wonder. There was no way in a million years that he was going to call out Lars on this sort of thing - he’d barely met the man. And as for Davy… well, despite everything they’d done together, there was an awful lot that Colin didn’t know about Davy. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid the conversation, and if that was the way he wanted it, Colin was happy to oblige. 

“Aren’t you studying a computer science thing?” he asked.

“Cybersecurity,” Davy corrected him, looking up.

“Right. Surely there’s lots of jobs all over for that,” Colin gestured vaguely with his hand. “I can’t imagine you’d have to go back to the states.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Davy said with a lop-sided grin. “My father already has a plan laid out for me at his London offices.” 

“Well, there you go,” Colin said brightly, feeling an internal wash of relief as he spotted some of the usual warmth return to Davy’s eyes. “Problem sorted.” Oh no; he could hardly stop his mouth as soon as the thought rolled into his head. “...Unless that’s not something you want to do?” he asked with a worried wince.

“It’s not so bad,” Davy shrugged. “I’m not going to complain about such an easy arrangement. Honestly, life could be a lot worse.”

“Could be working two jobs,” Lars chimed in with a salacious grin, wagging his tongue. 

“Why _ do _ you work at the cinema?” Colin peered at him curiously, tilting his head to one side. “I mean, surely… _ ahem _, your second job... brings in much more money.” He didn’t know much about sex work, but he was sure that it was legal as long as it was done in private, so it couldn’t have been a tax fraud thing... unless it was. Should he have even asked?

Lars seemed to be following his trail of thought. “Nah, I’m legit,” he answered with an easy-going smile. He reached up to make a little parting in his shaggy fringe so Colin could see one of his eyes. “But honestly? Working at the movies just gives me like, a team of people to hang out with, you know? Plus I get to see movies on release night like, every time. Oh, thanks, man,” he looked up and thanked the waiter as he delivered their pizza to the centre of the table. He wasted no time in grabbing a slice.

“Can we please get some serviettes?” Davy asked the waiter.

Colin wasn’t so attached to table manners. He followed Lars’ lead and took a slice, folding it in half lengthways so the whole thing didn’t flop about like some sort of soft cock while he tried to eat it. Sniggering to himself at his lewd analogy, he scoffed down most of his slice by the time Davy received his requested paper napkins. He watched as the redhead folded one up and used it to blot away bright, orange oil from the pieces of pepperoni on a slice that he’d evidently claimed for himself.

“You doing alright, man?” Lars asked.

“Mm,” Davy nodded, dropping the greasy napkin onto his plate and tearing the slice away from the pie. “It just tastes better this way.”

“Alright, cool,” Lars nodded sagely.

To each their own, Colin supposed. It was surprising that Davy bothered with such a thing - the man had the thighs of a Greek god, after all. He had to be exercising every single day. Surely, at that point, one didn’t have to worry about what they ate. Polishing off his crust, he cast a somewhat guilty glance at his glass of diet soda - a rather half-arsed health trick that he’d be doing since middle school. It probably didn’t matter nearly as much as the rest of his diet and exercise regime, especially when he wasted no time in taking another slice. It was _ wood-fired _, after all. One simply didn’t pass up the opportunity for fresh pizza of this quality.

Eventually, the three men finished off the entire thing between them, although Davy never made it past two slices. The crust from his second piece lay on his plate like a memento of the meal.

“Are you sure you didn’t want any more?” Colin asked. He was concerned that he’d hogged more than his fair share, more than anything else.

“No,” Davy chimed.

“Dude, maybe he’s not hungry after doing a number on your neck,” Lars joked, pointing at the hickey Davy had brought up on Colin’s throat.

Colin startled, clapping a hand over his neck self-consciously. He still hadn’t seen it - he wasn’t quite camp enough to carry around a compact mirror. “Is it bad?” he asked, worried.

“Kinda,” Lars sniggered, breaking into a grin. “Do you have, like, a scarf or something?”

“Not on me,” Colin shrugged.

“I like it,” Davy said dreamily, resting his chin in his hands. “Why not leave it? Who cares, right?”

***

Who indeed. Blythe, that was who: upon seeing the cluster of purple-red love bites on Colin’s neck the next day, he’d made a beeline for him as soon as he’d finished changing for hockey. Colin nearly had a heart attack when the man grabbed his elbow as he was making his way out onto the field.

“Jesus Christ, Eric!” he swore, pulling his arm back.

“Sorry,” Blythe said automatically, not sounding very sorry at all. “Just wanted to catch you before you go into another state of hypnosis.”

Colin scoffed in disgust. “I am _ not _that bad,” he snapped. Certainly, he’d had a daydream or two while watching Davy move in his short-shorts, but to accuse him of becoming a drooling moron was overstepping the mark.

“Well _ something _is that bad,” Blythe said knowingly, with a pointed look at Colin’s neck. “Have you got something to tell me?”

Colin knew he should have tried to find a bloody scarf. “None of your business!” he countered sharply. He might have considered it before yesterday, if Blythe really twisted his arm about it, but after meeting Lars in person, it was out of the question. Colin was fairly sure he didn’t fully understand the nature of their relationship, but one thing was clear, even to him: Davy didn’t open up that side of his life to many people. He certainly wasn’t going to blow whatever this was by blabbing to Blythe about it.

“We had a deal!” Blythe hissed furiously.

“We did not!” Colin snapped, slapping the man’s arm away. A whistle sounded from across the pitch.

“_ Oi! _” Kevin, wearing a referee vest over his sports clothes, yelled across the grass. “Am I going to have to card you two?” It was a joke more than anything else: the club just knocked a ball about for fun, and the slap wasn’t considered serious enough to get them kicked out of the group for fighting. Still, the fuss was enough to shame the two men into behaving, walking two feet apart with stiff arms.

“You can stick your deal up your arse, Eric Blythe,” Colin muttered angrily. “What I do with Davy is my own private business. It’s not my fault you’re just fat and jealous.”

“I am _ not _fat!” Eric snarled. 

“So you _ are _jealous,” Colin narrowed his eyes, shooting him a suspicious look. “You blew your chance because it was ‘too intense’, and now you’re just trying to live vicariously through me. I won’t put up with it!”

“Well, then,” Blythe began frostily. “If you won’t tell me anything else, I guess I’ll just have to share what I already know with the rest of the team.”

Colin gasped, rounding on him. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Blythe raised an eyebrow gamely. “Everyone already _ knows _I get about, Colin. I wonder what people would say if they knew goody-two-shoes nerd boy was just as much of a slag.”

Colin screamed, breaking out into a run just to get away from the foul creature. The audacity! Absolute outrage! He completed his warm-up lap of the oval in record time and he was still fuming. Kevin stuck him on goalie and he didn’t even care about having to wear the manky old shin guards. Not a single ball made it through his goal posts that afternoon. He treated each attempt at a goal like it was his own personal enemy: a miniature version of Blythe’s stupid fucking face. How could he be so childish?!

“Are you alright, Colin?” Davy came up to him at the end of the game. Looking the man up and down, he tittered and glanced over his shoulder to check that no one else was around before he spoke again. “You weren’t even that red in the face in the park last night.”

“Don’t,” Colin sulked, folding his arms with a huff. A deep furrow creased his brow. “I’m not in the mood right now, Davy.”

Davy didn’t seem that phased, but then again, he rarely did. “What’s wrong?”, was all he said.

“_ Blythe _,” Colin spat out he word like a bad taste in his mouth. As soon as he said it, he got an inkling of the kind of hole he could be digging himself into, talking about it with Davy. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to care: he was upset, it was all Blythe’s stupid fault, and Davy was here.

“Blythe?” Davy repeated, quirking his eyebrows. “What about him?”

Colin sighed. “He warned me about you, before I came over to your house that time,” he admitted with a pout. “I didn’t listen because I thought he was full of it, but naturally after what happened was so… unexpected, I needed someone to talk to about it.” As he spoke, Colin got the creeping feeling that some of this was, in fact, partially his fault. It was frustrating.

“But that’s not the point!” he said, glossing over the rest of the details. “Now he’s mad that I won’t tell him anything else and he’s threatening to blab about my sex life to the rest of the hockey team! For all I know he’s in there right now, laughing it up!” he cried, pointing dramatically to the entrance to the changing rooms in the distance.

Davy snorted.

“What?” Colin asked quickly.

“Sorry,” the redhead sniggered, sticking his hands into his pockets. “It’s just… who gives a shit about Blythe?” He laughed again.

“I do!” Colin cried indignantly. “Haven’t you been listening?!”

“He’s not going to tell anyone,” Davy said confidently, mirth shining in his eyes. “I guarantee it.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Colin worried, shaking his head.

“I can,” Davy nodded, reaching out for Colin’s hand. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up, then you can come back to my place. I’ll tell you a thing or two about Eric Blythe.”

***

“Are your parents _ ever _home?” Colin complained in the stylish, yet quintessentially empty hallway of Davy’s townhouse.

“About six times a year,” Davy answered brightly. “Don’t bank on it during the summer, it’s end of financial year.”

“God, even I see my mum more than that,” Colin said. “Do you miss them?”

“I see the people I care about often enough,” Davy answered simply, pinching Colin’s cheek. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes.” He started up the stairs in his socks.

Colin, who had already started to work his feet out of his sneakers, simply nodded. At this point, it would be no time at all before he felt more at home in Davy’s house than Davy’s parents did. At what point did a home start to feel more like a hotel? Colin would never understand posh people.

For once, he walked into Davy’s bedroom and found a relatively normal scene. Davy had the blinds up, and he was still fully clothed in the jeans and candy-cane striped shirt that he’d word at college. Colin flopped himself onto a sunny spot on the end of Davy’s bed with a dramatic sigh. 

“It’s not that bad,” Davy told him again.

“It is,” Colin sulked. “You don’t know Blythe like I do. He’s been a friend of the family for years, and mum’s enchanted with his parents because they’re always happy to foot the bill at restaurants. If he’ll tell my friends, what’s next? My family? He could hold this over me for _ years _,” he groaned, rolling over onto his back.

“You’re right,” Davy said, walking around his bed. Colin didn’t think Davy was very good at making him feel better about this sort of thing, although it turned out he wasn’t agreeing with the latter half of his pity speech. “I don’t know Blythe like you do. The Blythe_ I _ know is a dime a dozen - just another insecure man frantically trying to fill a hole.”

Colin scoffed, pulling a face as he sat up and turned to look at the man. “I thought you said you didn’t let him fuck you.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Davy said matter-of-factly, kneeling down to pull open one of the drawers underneath his bed. “Not that that stopped him from trying to worm his way into my life. Here.” 

The redhead took out an items from the drawer and handed it to Colin, who accepted it curiously. It was a thick strap of black leather set with small, spiked studs. His first guess would have been some kind of spanking thing, if it didn’t have a buckle on it so it could fasten like some kind of tiny, tiny belt. His eyebrows raised as he realised it was a collar. The spiked studs spelled out a word: _ SLUT _. Or at least, they would have, if all the letters weren’t backwards.

“It’s backwards,” he pointed out with a frown.

“It’s not,” Davy told him. “Look at the buckle. The spikes go on the inside.”

Davy was right, of course: the collar was meant to curve around with the spikes on the inside. The letters were backwards on the collar, but if it was worn long enough, the word would easily imprint the right way round on the wearer’s neck. He supposed it was incentive to keep it on. “And _ Blythe _wore this?” he asked, incredulous.

“_ Blythe _ was too pigeon-hearted to wear that,” Davy drawled, looking awful proud of himself. “I picked it up once he started to annoy me and dared him to wear it all day. He wore it home but the next day he called in sick so no one would see his neck. I found the collar shoved through the mail slot the next afternoon.”

“Oh my god!” Colin could hardly believe it. And honestly, he could begin to see the humour in it; why Davy found the thought of Blythe being threatening so terribly funny. “And this is what he tapped out on? It’s just a collar.” He never, in a million years, would have fancied himself as more hardcore than Blythe until now. What a baby!

“Nothing makes a man weaker than a fragile ego,” Davy purred confidently. “Which is why I know he won’t say a thing about us to anyone. It’s too close to the subject of what he did with me.”

“What else did he do with you?” Colin asked immediately. 

“I’m not one to kiss and tell,” Davy smiled, pushing the drawer shut with a neat _ thunk _. “At least, not until someone decides to be a massive twat. You can keep that, if you like,” he added, nodding to the collar. “If he still wants to give you a hard time, tell him I’ve still got pictures.”

God, it was like dating a very twinky mafioso. Colin was simultaneously touched that Davy would look after him like this, and a bit intrigued about what kind of pictures he’d be keeping of his exploits. “You don’t have any pictures of me, do you?” he asked, stowing the collar into the pocket of his hoodie.

“I haven’t really felt the need to take that kind of collateral,” Davy tittered at him, leaning forward to fold his arms on the bed. “You’re not really like the other men I’ve fucked around with. And you’re definitely not insecure.”

“Well, what am I, then?” Colin asked curiously. He would have thought he was at least a little bit insecure.

Davy giggled. “You’re just an arse man who’s a sucker for a pretty face,” he informed the man wistfully. “You’ll probably do anything I say, anyway. It’s adorable.”

Shocked, Colin opened his mouth to argue, then realised he had nothing to say. It was, in fact, a fair assessment. He felt colour rising in his cheeks. There was nothing else that could be done: he grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and lobbed it at Davy’s laughing face in sheer indignation. “You!” he cried out in frustration, but it was quickly becoming difficult to hold any kind of grudge.

Davy caught the pillow and fell back onto his fluffy rug with a grin, flipping it under his head so he could lie down comfortably. “You love it,” he said, smug.

“What else do you have in here?” Colin asked curiously, reaching down to peek into one of the drawers. He got it open about an inch before Davy’s foot pushed it shut again. Colin snatched his fingers back with a yelp.

“It’s a surprise.” Davy smiled up at him from the ground. “You’ll have to wait until the mood’s right.”

Colin gave a pout of protest. “Fine,” he relented, backing away from the drawer. It was fair to say that he wasn’t really in the mood to do anything that freaky, either. It did, however, leave them with a problem of having nothing else to do. “...Do you want to play XBox?” he suggested with a shrug.

“We could,” Davy mused, stretching out and folding his arms behind his head. “Or you could come down here and kiss me for a bit, first.” His blue eyes crinkled as he nodded to the spot next to him on the rug.

Colin wasted no time clambering off the bed. Kissing was A-OK with him.


	6. It’s just so big

Colin couldn’t believe he was doing this. It could all backfire so easily. Still, he had it on good authority that Blythe ran a few laps of the oval in the mornings (that was to say, that he’d heard Kevin scold him about leaving his towel draped across multiple pegs to dry throughout the day). So, as long as he played his cars right, there wouldn’t be  _ too  _ much of an audience for this little confrontation. It was much better to do it now than to wait for a hockey game when the whole team was around. At least, that was what he told himself, in order to make each foot step in front of the other as he made his way into the college changing rooms.

Colin was lucky; no one else was around except for Blythe, who had evidently arrived shortly before. He’d finished changing into his gym clothes and was tying his shoelaces. He didn’t look up right away when Colin dropped his satchel heavily onto the bench next to him.

“Hello, Blythe,” Colin said, voice dripping with reproach.

“Colin,” the man drawled, not rising to the bait of using last names. “Have you come to tell me a--” The words stopped dead in his throat as he looked up to see what Colin was wearing. Dark jeans, a pale blue button-down, and the  _ SLUT  _ collar. The strap of black leather was surprisingly soft when worn, but Colin could still feel the studs pressing the word into his neck, although he’d taken care to position the studs away from his love bite. Even now, he could see Blythe’s right hand twitch as though he might rub the side of his neck again, where the studs had once been. He glared back at Blythe coldly.

“Where did you get that?” Blythe asked hoarsely.

“Where do you think?” Colin scoffed. “Or do you need a story about that, too?”

Blythe was beginning to look as though he’d taken a bite out of a lemon. “How much do you know?” he asked, eyes full of foreboding.

“Enough,” Colin wrinkled his nose. He’d decided it would be better to keep the details vague - that way, hopefully Blythe’s imagination would run away with all kinds of notions. Colin knew all about overactive imaginations. 

“What do you want, then?” Blythe asked.

“I want you to piss off!” Colin snapped. “I can’t relax with you threatening to run your mouth about my sex life. I mean, for fuck’s  _ sake _ , Blythe, what if someone told my mum?!”

Blythe was quiet for a moment. “...It would take me a while to transfer colleges,” he said stiffly.

Colin did a double take. “What?”

Blythe looked up at him with a frown. “Well, I’m not just dropping out!” 

“Blythe, you idiot!” Colin cried. “I mean just keep you big, fat, mouth shut! I don’t mean to fucking  _ leave  _ school!”

The playboy’s jaw fell slack with realisation. “Jesus Christ, Colin,” he swore as though he was winded, twisting around to sit on the bench with a heavy sigh. “Don’t scare me like that.”

What the hell was Blythe on?! “Are you mental?” Colin asked.

“You’re clueless,” Blythe looked back at him with a wrinkled nose. “My dad’s a football manager, do you have any idea what the tabloids are like for people in the football industry? He got the job because the last guy got papped going into a brothel, I’d loose my bloody inheritance if word got out about his gay son doing… BDSM things,” he trailed off with a vague, flapping gesture at the collar.

Colin’s jaw dropped as he realised the man thought he was going to blackmail him. Well, he was, but nowhere  _ near  _ as much as Blythe was suggesting. He wasn’t a bloody monster! “Well if you’re so sensitive about privacy, why did you threaten to tell everyone about me and Davy?” he complained.

“I wasn’t going to tell them the details!” Blythe snapped, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “Just that you two had hooked up. Fucking hell.”

“Well you didn’t say that at the time!” Colin hissed.

“I knew you’d stew over it if I kept it vague,” Blythe grimaced.

Colin pursed his lips. He had to admit that a taste of his own medicine didn’t taste nice. And as much as Blythe was a vile, horny toad, he was a little disarmed by how the man had been so ready to uproot his studies just to keep the story quiet. “Fucking hell,” he parroted, reaching behind his neck with a grunt. Unbuckling the collar, he yanked it off and shoved it in Blythe’s face. “Here, take the stupid thing!”

Blythe glanced quickly at the door before he snatched the collar out of Colin’s hand and shoved it deep into his sports bag. “Thanks,” he said, a little stiffly, staring at the word  _ SLUT  _ now spelled out in pink dots on Colin’s neck. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Never you mind,” Colin huffed, pulling open his satchel. He’d packed a nice, cream scarf to wear for the rest of the day. He certainly hadn’t planned on wearing a piece of bondage kit to his afternoon lecture! That, and it kept his hickey on a need-to-know basis. “Just don’t ask me about Davy ever again!” He turned to shoot the man a look, tossing the scarf around his neck in a dramatic gesture.

Blythe rolled his eyes. “That’s going to come loose in about three seconds,” he told him, standing up. “Here, let me do it.”

Colin stood rather stiffly as the other man removed his scarf and looped it around his neck a few times, threading one end through one of the loops to create something that was almost like a knot, but wasn’t. The ends still draped down at the front but the neck was quite snug.

“It’s called a reverse drape tuck,” Blythe told him, seeming to read Colin’s mind. Colin couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes: of course it had a bloody name.

“You’re so posh,” he grumbled, thoroughly exasperated.

“Yes, and I want to keep it that way,” Blythe said pointedly, giving Colin a single pat on the shoulder. “I won’t bother you any more about Davy, just don’t come crying to me if he asks you to do something you can’t handle, yeah? Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my morning run in.”

Colin clicked his tongue, watching the man jog out the door. Trust Blythe to get the last word in. He had to admit that he didn’t feel quite as triumphant as he though he would after the exchange, but at least it seemed like Blythe was going to play nicely. He supposed that all he had to do was get through the rest of the day and hope his scarf didn’t come loose. Hauling his satchel back over his shoulder with a sigh, he walked out of the change rooms and headed towards the east wing. He had a lot of time to kill, so he figured he’d spend it in a secluded part of the library and get some studying done.

Or at least, that was the plan.

“Hi, Colin,” Davy chimed at the library doorway.

Colin startled. He hadn’t thought he’d see Davy in this part of the campus, to be honest; he’d assumed that the man would spend all of his time in the computer labs. Then again, the redhead was hugging a laptop to his chest. “Hi, Davy,” he said with a shaky smile. He could already feel the heat creeping into his cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Davy asked, tilting his head to one side. “You seem a little… warm.”

“Erm,” Colin began, flustered. It didn’t help that it was a smidge too warm to be wearing a scarf, but he hadn’t banked on Davy finding out about his stunt with Blythe quite so immediately. “It’s a long story, but kind of not. It’s just that…”

Davy quirked his eyebrows, but he seemed to understand. “You don’t have to tell me right now,” he said with a bemused smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Come on, there’s a table free under that spooky painting.”

There was always a table free under that spooky painting. Colin smiled sheepishly and followed after the redhead, sitting down at the table as though he’d taken the weight of the world off his shoulders. It wasn’t even noon yet and he felt like he’d lived through an entire day. He supposed emotional tension would do that to a man. 

“It’s not a cold, is it?” Davy asked, opening his laptop and looking in Colin’s direction. “I do need to ask, in case I need to get some Vitamin C on the way home.”

“It’s not a cold,” Colin said quickly, pulling out his books. With a furtive glance around, he decided that their spot was secluded enough to spill the beans. “It’s just that,” he began awkwardly, “I don’t really need to worry about Blythe any more.”

“I told you, he’ll never tell anyone,” Davy said casually, tapping away at his keyboard. He seemed like quite a fast typist.

“But also, um, I won’t be able to give you the collar back, if you need it,” Colin confessed, face going red. 

Davy stopped typing and raised an eyebrow. He smirked at Colin over the top of his laptop. “Why?”

“I gave it back to him,” the brunette admitted, pressing his lips together.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this story than you’re letting on?” Davy chuckled.

“... After wearing it in front of him to spook him,” Colin added in a gush, burying his face in his hands.

“No!” Davy exclaimed, beaming. He shut his laptop and leaned across the table with keen interest. “You didn’t! Is that why you’re wearing a scarf? I just thought it was for the hickey.”

“Keep your voice down,” Colin hushed him, looking over his shoulder. Of course, no one was around. It was too early for the library to have filled up yet. He turned back to Davy. “Yes,” he said with a pout. 

“Can I see it?” Davy asked, blue eyes bright with interest.

“I’m not still  _ wearing  _ it,” Colin said, aghast. 

“The marks,” Davy insisted.

Right. Colin looked around again, swallowing, but he really had to concede that the scene of the library didn’t change rapidly enough to warrant his paranoid behaviour. Heart pounding, he nervously loosened his scarf enough to expose the welts on his neck and leaned forward so Davy could see.

“Nice,” Davy beamed. “They’ll probably last a few hours, if you only wore it for a little bit.”

“That’s good,” Colin said, hastily fixing his scarf again. Until then, he’d have to deal with being a little bit overdressed.

“Colin,” Davy began in an airy tone of voice that immediately put Colin on edge. “Would you say that what you did had Big Dick Energy?” he asked with snicker, dragging his finger across the surface of his laptop.

Colin’s jaw dropped. Was that a meme? Did Davy  _ meme _ ? He’d never imagined Davy memeing. Then again, who knew what went on on that laptop of his. It was always the computer types that you had to watch out for.

“When’s your next lecture?” Davy carried on smoothly.

Colin had a feeling these were very loaded questions. “Not until this afternoon,” he said. “Why?”

“Come with me back to my place,” Davy said. “There’s something I’d like to try.”

***

Colin couldn’t believe it. He’d only even seen one in an Austin Powers movie, and that had just been a gag. They hadn’t actually shown anything explicit. “Where did you get it?” he asked.

Davy, who was still kneeling in front of the toy drawer built into his bed frame, shrugged as he passed the tube to Colin. “One of the sex shops in Soho. A shop clerk recommended it, so I added it to my basket.” 

“Of course you did,” Colin said, shaking his head in wonder. Of course Davy had been casually shopping for sex toys and bought a bloody penis pump as an impulse purchase. 

“Oh, we’ll need a cock ring, too,” Davy opened the drawers again as an afterthought, rummaging around. 

“Will we?” Colin asked with a laugh. He didn’t have a clue about this kind of stuff. Sitting on Davy’s bed in his socks and boxer briefs, he regarded the device in his hand with no small measure of curiousity. It was a sizeable, clear cylinder with a black rubber seal at the opening. The other end closed off with a small, thin tube that attached to a hand pump. It looked like the tube could be screwed off - probably some kind of release valve. 

“It’s for after,” Davy explained, pulling a simple silicone ring and a small tube of lube from the drawer and clambering up onto the bed. “It helps the pump last longer because it slows the blood leaving your dick.” 

“Does it hurt?” Colin worried. 

“Not really,” Davy chuckled. “I tried it out on myself to see what it would feel like. It’s kind of like a weird, throbbing ache, at most. But you’ll definitely be tender for a few days,” he snickered.

“So, you’ve used it too,” Colin said, looking down at the pump again. He had to admit that the thought of Davy’s pretty cock having been inside the same toy made it all the more appealing.

“I do clean my things,” Davy pointed out with a smile.

“Oh, it’s not that,” Colin chuckled. Christ, he still would have used it if Davy’s cum was still inside it, but he wasn’t quite sexually liberated enough to voice that position just yet. “It’s just… hot.”

“Right,” Davy smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed when Colin looked up at his with wide, pious eyes, reaching out to cup his cheek. “You are so easy to read,” he told the brunet. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you wank off with my panties after I’ve cum in them.”

Colin bit his lip, his imagination running away with the idea. He glanced down at the pale blue lace clinging to Davy’s hips, clenching his hand into a fist to keep from reaching out and grabbing a handful of the gorgeous, creamy arse without permission.

Davy laughed and pushed the pump of out his hand before pushing Colin by the shoulders so he felt back onto the mattress. His pink lips spread in a smug smile as he ground his hip up against Colin’s, pulling a moan from his throat. “Go on, then,” he invited salaciously. “You’ve got to get hard first.”

Colin whined, wrapping his arms around Davy’s body and letting his palms run up and over the ample curve before he spread his fingers and sunk them gratuitously into the flesh. “Davy,” he moaned, pushing the cheeks together before pulling them apart again, just to feel the meat shift under his hands. 

The redhead just grabbed his face and kissed him, hard. Colin soon found himself cupping Davy’s ass up against his spread thighs to give him more leverage for his grinding. He would have gladly done that until he came, but Davy had other plans.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the redhead teased, pulling back after a few minutes. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t want you to shoot early.”

Breathing heavily, Colin watched as Davy fished his hard prick out of the fly of his trunks, his pale fingers rubbing appreciatively up over the shaft and swollen head. This seemed to be just for show, however, because a moment later he grabbed the waistband of Colin’s underwear and pulled them down his legs entirely, flinging them somewhere onto the fluffy rug. 

“We need a clean seal,” Davy grinned, squirting some lube onto one finger and running it around the edge of the cock pump’s opening. He wiped the excess off on the head of Colin’s prick, straddling his thighs before he carefully guided the man’s shaft into the tube. “Grab ahold of your balls, baby,” he told Colin. “I don’t like when the extra skin gets sucked in. That’s cheating.”

Licking his lips nervously, Colin grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and pulled it under his head to prop himself up. He used his other hand to reach down and cup his boys, pulling them away from the base of the tube.

“I wonder how big you’ll go,” Davy mused aloud, watching keenly as he gave the hand pump a few slow, experimental pumps. “You’re already pretty big; maybe we can get you to touch the end.”

Colin looked at the distance between the tip of his cock and the end of the pump, and he doubted it. He didn’t feel much at first, but as Davy kept pumping the air out of the tube, slowly but surely, he began to an oddly erotic pulling sensation. Both of the men had their eyes locked on the clear cylinder, and Colin’s mouth opened in surprise as he watched his cock slowly swell inside the pump. Knowing what would happen and actually seeing and feeling it were two very different things. His heart beat faster as he took stock of the size of the pump again. It was so thick that he couldn’t get his hand around it. Could he really touch the sides?

“Uh,” he piped up, just to say anything at all, really. Davy glanced up at him, hand still pumping in a steady beat. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” Colin said, squirming. He’d never felt anything like this before. There was so much pressure in his cock, but it just kept getting long and fatter, the more Davy pumped. He started to crave the feeling of touch, writhing enough to make the pump wag while it was still attached to him.

“Hey,” Davy said, pressing a hand on Colin’s stomach to still him. He frowned as he watched the man’s muscles clench, making the tube bounce a little. “Stop that.”   
  


“I can’t help it,” Colin said breathlessly, tipping his head back. “It feels so weird.”

“Maybe you are a slut,” Davy tittered, observing the faint impression of the word on Colin’s exposed neck. He gave the man a quick burst of pumps all at once, making him yelp. “I should have done your nips as well,” he mused aloud, enjoying the view of the man’s muscular chest heaving with his breaths. “Maybe next time.”

Colin grunted, cracking his eyes open to check the pump again. He could hardly believe what he saw: he could done porn with a tool that big! The next burst of pumps pulled a strangled groan from his throat and he screwed his eyes shut again. After that, Davy went back to pumping more slowly, watching Colin’s cock swell with rapt attention.

Colin soon learned that his earlier thoughts about the pressure in his cock had been child’s play. Now, it just felt like his dick had throbbed but the throb had  _ stayed  _ there, and never gone away. Times ten. Was his cock nearly twice as thick, or was that just distortion through the tube? It was getting too foggy to see properly.

“D-Davy,” he whimpered, starting to feel more and more of that ache the man was talking about. “I don’t… I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Can you do three more pumps for me?” Davy asked sweetly, looking the man in the eye.

Colin gave an anxious whine. Maybe he could. Or maybe he’d blow a blood vessel or something. Maybe he just wanted to cum. 

“ _ Two _ more pumps?” Davy bartered.

“O-okay,” Colin said with a little nod, panting. He should have known that the redhead would make the most out of those two pumps. He watched as Davy slowly tightened his fist, crushing every possible bit of air out of the hand pump before he opened his hand again. The brunet’;s breath hitched as he watched the pump expand again, and then he  _ felt  _ it pull at his impossibly hard, fat cock as though it might pull it right out of his groin. He held on to his churning balls for dear life. 

“One more?” Davy simpered, rubbing circles on Colin’s taut belly. 

Colin whimpered. Another beat passed, and he realised that Davy was waiting for him to answer. “Uh,” he said weakly, “it kind of… hurts…”

“Okay,” Davy said a knowing look in his eyes. He unscrewed the top of the pump, and Colin felt a rush of relief as the vacuum seal was broken and his cock slowly slid out of the slick tube. He must have been leaking precum for a while. Gawking at his shiny, over-swollen cock, his first instinct was to grab it, but Davy slapped his hand away. 

“No,” Davy said simply, reaching for the cock ring. By nature of being silicon, it had a fair amount of stretch to it, and he was able to work it over Colin’s shaft until it fit snugly at the base of his dick.

“I really want to cum, Davy,” Colin whimpered. “Please.”

“Poor baby,” Davy simpered again, this time with a bit more edge in his voice. Squirting a generous amount of lube into his palm, he took ahold of Colin’s prick and starting jerking him off in deliciously quick strokes. “You wanna cum? You better work for it.” All of a sudden, his hand stopped moving. His hand was still curled firmly around Colin’s cock, but that was it. “Fuck it,” the redhead ordered him curtly, trailing off with a smirk. “Unless you want my feet again.”

Colin groaned. The pumping had been hard enough, now this? He should have known the man would find an outlet for his sadism in all of this. Driven by instinctive lust, he pushed his hips upwards, and got precisely nowhere with Davy still sitting across his thighs. “Get off me,” he grunted, attempting to plant his feet on the mattress.

“Okay,” Davy snickered, climbing off the man’s lap. Sitting comfortably cross-legged on the mattress, he took ahold of Colin’s cock again, guiding it upwards with both hands.

“Can’t I go on my knees?” Colin sulked.

“No,” Davy chimed.

Breathing deeply, Colin hauled himself up onto his elbows to get leverage, pushing his massive cock up into the sweet, sweet friction of Davy’s palms. Moaning, he tried to push his hips up and down with the deepest strokes possibly, which of course wore out all his upper body strength. Swearing, he fell back onto the mattress, planting his feet on the bed instead and making a bridge out of his body. That was much easier. Especially when Davy’s hand seemed to drift towards the head of his prick, letting Colin get the most pleasure with short, quick thrusts. 

“Fuck,” Colin swore, feeling the muscles of his core and thighs burn. As much as it hurt, the feeling of Davy’s slick hands up against his prick was so, so good. He was so close. “Davy!” 

“You can do it,” Davy cooed, slightly tightening his hand around Colin’s slipper cock head. “Come on.”

Colin moaned, grabbing fistfuls of the bed sheets as he furiously humped up into the redhead’s hand. When he finally built himself up to orgasm and pushed himself over the edge, he let out a triumphant, exhausted scream. Particularly when Davy’s hand seemed to spring to life again and started milking the rest of the cum out of his swollen cock, spilling it all onto Colin’s waiting stomach and chest. The first volley made it all the way up to his collar bone.

Groaning, and despite everything, Colin still found his hips bucking weakly even as Davy’s touch passed the point of cumming and started treading into the territory of delirium. He lost count of the number of ropes he shot and he could barely open his eyes to chest. Utterly spent, he collapsed back onto the bed with a groan. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was dimly aware of Davy giggling, and the silicone cock ring being gently eased off his throbbing prick. 

“I’m going to die,” Colin said weakly.

“You’re not going to die,” Davy chuckled. 

“It’s all over,” Colin carried on, squirming as he felt warm cum drip into the hollow of his throat. “I’ll never cum again.” He threw an arm over his eyes for good measure, even though his arms felt like lead.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Davy laughed. “You’ll be begging to cum again this time next week.”

“Give it three days,” Colin said with a breathless smirk, peeking out from the crook of his elbow.

“Okay, Casanova,” Davy sniggered. “So you’ll be all ready to pump again in three days, yeah?”

“... Maybe not,” Colin conceded with a hazy grin. His cock was sluggishly returning to normal size, but he could already tell that he was going to be tender for a while - even more than he had been after the cinema. “What time is it?” he asked with a yawn.

“It’s half past noon,” Davy said. “You can shower and take a nap, if you want,” he offered slyly. “I’ll wake you up in time for your lecture.”

“It’s not that,” Colin gasped, stretching out on the bed. “I’m starving. Let’s go to that Italian place near school.” He felt like he could clear an entire bowl of spag bol in two minutes flat, plus garlic bread.

“Oh,” Davy said, sitting back. “I can’t.”

“I’m buying,” Colin offered politely.

“It’s not that,” Davy said with an odd grin. “I can’t eat in a restaurant until next month.”

Colin’s brow furrowed in confusion. They’d just been in a restaurant the other night. “I didn’t know there was a limit on restaurants,” he said.

“There is,” Davy said crisply. “Besides, I just got the groceries in. I have all my meals planned out for the rest of the fortnight.”

Colin was too tired to argue any further against Davy’s apparent commitment to perfectly using up all of his groceries. “Fine,” he groaned, flopping back onto the pillow. He didn’t want to be the sad case who went into a sit-down restaurant on his own, so he consoled himself that he’d buy an absurd number of sandwiches at Pret a Manger to make up for it. Or maybe a cheeky Nando’s. “I’ll take you up on that shower, though,” he sniffed, looking down at his cum-streaked chest. Not to mention the sweat - he felt like he’d done a workout, and he probably had. Colin didn’t think his legs had ever felt heavier - not even after he’d done that half-marathon last year.

“I’ll get the water running,” Davy said with a fond smile. “If you can drag your poor, unfortunate bones off the bed, I’ll let you soap me down like in the movies.”

Colin’s body suddenly felt a lot lighter, and he rolled out of Davy’s bed to chase him into the bathroom.


	7. I can't believe it

Of all the places Davy had expected to see Lars again, it hadn’t been when he was down at Tesco getting the groceries. Yet there he was, perusing the confectionery. Colin had only popped in to the sweet aisle to grab some chewing gum, but he’d recognised that mouth anywhere, even in profile. Lars caught him gawking before he could say anything.

“Colin? Hey, man,” the American pulled a packet of Chupa Chups off the rack before he came over for a hug. "How are ya?"

Colin caught a whiff of something sweet, like synthetic cherry, which he suspected might have been chapstick, judging by the slightly red sheen at the part of the man’s lips. He tried not to stare. “Alright,” he answered, a little flustered as he tried to make eye contact through the man’s shaggy fringe instead. “Yourself?”

“Pretty good, pretty good,” Lars nodded sagely, his gaze casually drifting down to the full shopping basket in Colin’s hand. “Damn, are you alright?”

Colin tried to stop the muscles in his arm tensing up, but it was difficult, since he’d just fetched the milk and the weight was starting to get to him. Usually, he was fine, but yesterday’s workout had taken a toll on his grip. Truth be told, he should have just gotten a trolley, but he felt it was a bit pathetic to be pushing around a trolley that was less than a quarter full. “Yeah,” he said, voice raising an octave as he switched the basket to his other hand. “Just heading to the checkout.”

“Here,” Lars laughed, reaching out to grab the basket handle and share the load. “I’ll help.”

“Do you need anything else?” Colin asked, eyeing the bag of lollipops in Lars’ hand.

“Nah,” Lars answered with a cheeky grin. “I eat out most of the time. I just have a, uh…” he searched for the word.

“Sweet tooth?” Colin suggested.

“Oral fixation,” Lars nodded with an easy-going grin.

Colin could very much see how Lars would have an oral fixation. “Right,” he nodded, trying not to blush. They didn’t speak much as they went through the checkouts, but Lars picked up some of Colin’s shopping bags without asked, so he supposed that the man intended to walk him back to his flat.

“Thanks,” he said as they walked out. “I’m usually a bit stronger than this but I, um… went to the gym last night,” he added sheepishly. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Lars winked, shifting the bags to the crook of his elbow so he could open his Chupa Chups. He pulled one out of the bag and loosen the wrapper with his teeth. “Do you want one?” he asked, exposing the sweet for a moment before he popped it into the side of his cheek.

“No, thanks,” Colin smiled. “I only just had breakfast.”

“Cool,” Lars grinned. He spoke rather well for someone who was intermittently working at a lollipop with their tongue. “I’ve been up since like, six. I spend a lot of time at the sauna. Not just for work, though.”

“You’re very productive,” Colin raised his eyebrows. “I’m dead to anyone before nine, minimum. Eight if I bribe myself with bacon.” 

“Dude, the one thing I miss about America, they have this place called Denny’s…”

Colin and Lars kep talking, mostly about food, all the way back to Colin’s flat. It wasn’t until Colin was fishing his keys out of his back pocket on his way up the stairs that it occurred to him that he was having Lars over before Davy. Perhaps it would stay that way, to be honest - Davy’s house was so much nicer than his little studio apartment, that Colin felt a little inadequate. Lars, on the other hand… even now, Colin spotted a few holes in the back of the navy hoodie the man wore over his stonewash jeans. Lars just had a much more laid back vibe.

“Cool place,” the American said inanely as Colin let him in the door. He’d already started easing his feet out of his sneakers before Colin could tell him not to bother. He followed suit to avoid making it awkward, carrying his groceries across the living room to the kitchenette.

“Thanks,” he said, a little breathless after the stairs. He yanked the hefty jug of milk out of his back and shoved it into the fridge. “It’s not much, but it’s cosy, you know? And this whole place has got fibre internet.”

“Oh, you play games, too?” Lars remarked as he brought his bags over to the counter. “No wonder Davy likes you.”

“Yes,” Colin chuckled as he carried on unpacking the groceries. “Although we’ve hardly ever played together.” They’d been far too busy playing other games, of course, but he left that fact unspoken. Lars laughed anyway.

“I bet,” he said, opening up one of the bags and passing a packet of bacon to Colin, who still had the fridge open. “It’s nice that he’s found someone so cool, you know? He’s never let me meet any of the guys he hangs out, so you must be really cool.”

“Th-thanks,” Colin stammered, caught a little off guard. Did Lars say that Davy had _ never _ let anyone else meet him? He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to make of that. “Say, Lars,” he piped up as the pair continued packing things away. “You wouldn’t know the kind of things Davy likes, would you? I’ve tried, I mean… I’ve offered, and, erm, he’s a bit particular.” He could feel his face getting redder by the second. Christ, why did he have to mince words when the man in his kitchen had already sucked his cock?!

“Oh, you mean the cumming thing?” Lars said plainly, passing Colin a pack of yoghurts. “Yeah, he has a few hang-ups. But don’t worry, man, he’s doing _ so _ much better than he used to. For a while, he wouldn’t even let _ me _ give him head, and he _ loves _that.” 

“Right,” Colin said with a furrow in his brow. He supposed Lars’ advice was helpful, in an abstract sort of way. “I don’t know,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve never been in one of these… kinky relationship things,” he wave his hand in the air, feeling quite a lot like Blythe. He hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.

“Davy’s not so hardcore,” Lars chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve met some really wild guys. And Davy’s a good guy, you know? He wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t wanna do.”

Thinking about it, Colin had to agree. But that wasn’t the point. “What I _ want _to do is make him happy,” he complained. “I just can’t figure out how.”

Lars shook his head in disbelief. “Man,” he said. “You guys are two peas in a pod. You’ve gotta calm down, man. Just let things run their course and go with the flow. If you keep obsessing over making him cum, you’re gonna go crazy.”

“My whole life, everything’s always been about cumming,” Colin sighed dramatically. He couldn’t remember a boyfriend who’d ever been satisfied without cumming - sometimes even once wasn’t enough.

“Mine’s about having something in my mouth,” Lars quipped, taking the plastic lollipop stick out from between his teeth. 

Looking over his shoulder, Colin’s eyes went wide when he caught the man running his tongue over his plump bottom lip. The man caught his eyes through a crack in his shaggy fringe, and his lips spread into a salacious grin. 

“Dude,” Lars said. “You stare at my mouth a lot.”

Fuck! He’d tried so hard not to stare. Well, he’d tried a little. “Sorry,” he blustered, turning around and quickly shutting the fridge. How was one supposed to apologise properly like this? Before he could find the words, Lars grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face him.

Oh god, yes. They were kissing before Colin could think about anything else, and Lars’ lips felt every bit as luscious as they looked. He moaned into the man’s mouth as their tongues slid over one another. Colin was sure the flavour of strawberry Chupa Chup would be forever seared into his memory after this day. He reached out and grabbed the man’s shoulders, pulling him closer, though when their hips connected, Colin had to wince.

Lars backed off, a glimmer of concern shining though his hazy expression. “You okay, man?” he asked, lips flushed and shiny.

“Yeah,” Colin whimpered, bringing his hips back a smidge with an embarrassed smile. “I’m just a little bit tender. Davy did this, um… pump thing.” He felt like his mouth ran dry just getting out the words.

“Duuuude,” Lars said keenly, brushing his fringe to one side to expose an eye that was suddenly looking a lot sharper. “He used that on you, too? How big did you get?” Suddenly, he was unbuttoning the front of Colin’s jeans with alarming dexterity.

“It’s not still big!” Colin cried. Well… the swelling from the pump had gone down last night. The swelling from making out with an incredibly gorgeous yankee in his kitchen was still a work in progress. Still, he was quite tender. He yipped as Lars rubbed his package appreciatively through his trunks.

“Man, that looks so good,” Lars said wistfully, starting to sink to the floor. Colin stopped him by catching him under the armpit.

“Lars! Oh my god, no, not on the linoleum,” he said, hardly able to believe that the man was going for it. “Your poor knees. Come on.” Grabbing the man’s hand (and the hem of his open jeans in the other, to stop them falling down) he led him across the living room and into his bedroom. He kicked a laundry pile to one side to make a clear path to his king-sized single.

“Sweet,” Lars smiled, peeling his hoodie over his head and tossing it to the floor. He had quite a good body, actually. Colin guessed there was a gym at the sauna he went to. Perhaps he needed to switch gyms. When Lars pushed him back onto the mattress, he thought he absolutely should switch gyms. 

“I remember when he got that thing,” Lars recalled, pulling Colin’s jeans down his hips before he squeezed the man’s prick through his underwear, coaxing it to full hardness. “He pumped himself up, and it was wild. It was like doing it with a porn star. He let me do this thing…” 

Colin’s breath hitched in his throat as his cock was promptly pulled up from the waistband of his trunks, the elastic pushing up underneath his plump balls. Lars rolled onto the bed, his face rubbing up against the man’s warm shaft before he wrapped his arms around Colin’s thighs, hugging him close. Colin’s cock, now effectively pinned between his stomach and Lars’ face, gave an aching twinge as Lars planted a deep and very enthusiastic kiss right on the head of it.

“Lars!” Colin yelped, grabbing the man’s hair. “Oh, fuck! Not so hard, please…” 

“I’m sorry, man.” Lars’ breath came hot against Colin’s quivering prick. “I guess I gotta calm down too, huh…” 

“Mmm,” Colin whined, cautiously loosening his grip in the brown mop of hair as Lars’ lips and tongue returned, much more gently this time. Now, that was nice. With a deep furrow in his brow, he arched his back with a sweet moan as Lars gently nursed on his cock, gradually working his way up to letting the swollen head push up against the silky skin inside his cheek.

Coling practically melted in the man’s arms at that point. He kept moaning - god knew what the neighbours would think - and let his eyes close and his head toss from side to side as Lars blew him.

“Yeah, you like that?” Lars purred, still so up close and personal with Colin’s prick that his lips rubbed up against the shaft as he spoke.

“_ Unh, _” Colin could only moan in reply.

“Good,” Lars chuckled. “Now hold on.”

Suddenly, the man’s grip around his legs tightened. Colin opened his eyes in confusion but in the next second, Lars had taken his throbbing cock into his mouth again, doing something… something _ fluttering _with his tongue, right on a sweet spot, Colin was sure of it. He could hardly imagine what he was doing in his head, he could only feel it. And he kept feeling it, more and more. Lars didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. And after just a few moments, Colin’s balls started to pull tight against the elastic of his briefs, and he understood what the man had meant by holding on. Because he didn’t stop suckling him - not even when he started to cum.

“Lars,” Colin whimpered, feeling himself getting close. The man didn’t relent. Colin heard his suck a breath in through his nose. Oh, god. Oh god! “Lars!” he cried, torn between the feeling of wanting to cum and the kind of dread one got at the top of a roller coaster. He fought against the man’s grip, but he was held fast: Lars’ gentle but merciless lips might as well have been glued on. Unable to hold on any longer, he came with a scream, thrashing and biting the heel of his hand to keep from pulling out the man’s hair.

Slowly, Lars’ tongue became less hellbent on stimulating Colin’s poor, aching cock. Trembling, Colin whimpered as the slick muscle encircled the head in a lazy fashion, feeling Lars lap up the last of his cum and swallow it. The American finally pulled back with a deep, satisfied sigh. “How was it?” he asked cheekily.

“You people are going to be the death of me,” Colin said quietly, but with no small sense of drama.

“Haha,” Lars’ guilty-as-charged grin faltered a bit as his body shifted on the bed. “You uh, might need to wash your sheets,” he said with a lop-sided shrug. As he pulled back to sit on his knees, Colin’s eyes widened at the wet spot that had bloomed on Lar’s jeans.

“You came just from sucking me off?” he asked in surprise.

“It’s uh, mostly pre.” Lars rubbed the back of his head. “I get kind of worked up. If you have a bathroom, I can clean myself up.”

“I need a full bloody shower after that,” Colin groaned, sitting up on his bed and yanking his briefs down his thighs. He kicked them off his legs in the direction of his laundry pile. His shirt followed soon after: he felt a lot less shy in front of Lars after _ that _exchange. It had been a lot more intimate than the time in the park. “Come on.”

Being under the warm spray of the shower had never felt better. Colin indulged himself for a moment before he edged the faucet towards a cooler temperature. He needed to smarten up, after all. Casting an eye in the direction of his bathroom sink, he could make out a very blurry Lars running a washcloth under the tap through his cheap, transparent shower curtain. He would have gladly shared the shower with the man if it just wasn’t so small. Just another miserable fact of life for the common classes, he supposed. Perhaps they could shower together at Davy’s sometime. Knowing that he couldn’t spend all day spying on Lars from the shower, he pumped some orange shower gel into his hand and set about giving himself a quick, revitalising rinse.

  
  


The bathroom counter buzzed as Lars’ phone rang. Oddly enough, his ringtone was _ Golden Brown _ by The Stranglers. Colin would have pinned him for some kind of reggae, or at least an American band. 

Lars finished drying himself off before he answered. “Hey, Davy.”

Colin paused, straining to hear the conversation. He hastily washed off the rest of the bubbles and surreptitiously shut off the water. 

“Nah, I’m at-- Davy, whoa,” Lars faltered. “Davy, that shouldn’t… Just _ stop _for a minute, man. Just think about it for--” 

The mood in the room seemed to change. Abandoning all pretense of not eavesdropping, Colin pushed the shower curtain open, making frantic, confused eye contact with the man. He could see Lars wincing away from the earpiece, unable to get a word in edgeways. Lars stared back at him with a deep furrow in his brow. For the first time ever, he actually seemed to be getting frustrated. 

“_ Davy! _” Lars yelled into the phone. Coming in his voice, the exclamation seemed to lack a bit of punch, but evidently it did the job. “Just… shit, just stay there, okay? I’m coming. Fuck,” the curse came after he hung up, hastily tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling his jeans up his hips. “Get dressed,” he told Colin.

Colin had never grabbed a towel faster. “What’s happened?” he asked, worried.

“Has Davy talked to you about this stuff?” Lars asked, rapidly texting on his phone.

“What stuff?”

Lars frowned. “We gotta go back to the store.”

“What, Tesco?” Colin’s confusion wasn’t lessening. And surely _ Davy _deserved a Waitroses, at a minimum. 

“Just get dressed,” Lars said again, striding back into Colin’s bedroom to grad his hoodie. Once he was dressed, he started to pace back and forth in the narrow strip of bare floor between the bed and the door. Colin got dressed as fast as he could, grabbing his keys and following hot on Lars’ heels as he jogged down the steps.

“Lars, what is this all about?” he asked incredulously as he did his best to keep up with the man’s power-walking. What could Davy possibly need from Tesco, of all places? Was it painkillers? “He’s not ill, is he?”

“Nah,” Lars shook his head with a frown. “He’s just stressed out. He gets like this sometimes. Come on.” He led Colin through the automatic doors, grabbed a basket from the top of the stack, and immediately cornered the first spotty teenager in a Tesco’s shirt that he saw.

“Hey, man, you guys got any Lean Cuisines?” he asked.

“You what?” the youth asked incredulously. Colin was just as confused. He’d heard of Lean Cuisines on TV shows, but he’d never seen them in the shops.

“They’re like, frozen meals?” Lars elaborated, but he didn’t back down one bit. He spoke with the confidence of a man who did not have a cum stain on his jeans just underneath the hem on his hoodie.

“Down the back, mate,” the clerk said, standoffish.

“Cool, can you take me there?”

Colin cringed. So much had never been asked of a miserable Tesco shop boy before. Still, something about Lars’ bizarre mix of intensity and chill language made the request impossible to fob off. The boy may have rolled his eyes, but he led them to the frozen food section and promptly departed with little more than a hasty “Here you go.”

“Thanks, man.” Lars said, but his eyes were already fixed on the display case of frozen foods. He shook his head after a moment with a pained chuckle. “Oh, man. The food is so bad here.” 

“We should have gone to Waitroses!” Colin agonised. He didn’t feel like he had much else to contribute to the situation.

“Nah, I mean like, England? No offense.” Lars picked up a Hearty Food chicken curry with rice. “Can you see anything better with chicken in it?”

“Not unless he likes sweet and sour chicken,” Colin noted, poring over the display case.

Lars looked between the two choices. “Yeah, this one’s better,” he said, and proceeded to open the glass door and pile no less than six sweet and sour chicken with rices into his shopping basket.

“Six of the _ same _thing?” Colin asked incredulously.

“Trust me,” Lars said, grabbing the man’s hand and dragging him back down the aisle. He picked up a head of broccoli on his way to the checkout. An Uber was already waiting for them when they came out - Colin must have missed Lars ordering it.

Lars had a key to Davy’s house. Colin would have made a comment about this, but it clearly wasn’t the time. Holding the bag with the broccoli in his hands, he just watched as the American man opened the door and hastily kicked off his shoes. “Davy?” he called.

“_ Lars? Is that you? _” Davy was upstairs somewhere.

Colin didn’t need to go upstairs to see that the house was in a right state. He could see the kitchen through the open door at the end of the hall: the fridge door was hanging open, but the light was off. Packets of food, presumably spoiled, were out on the counter. So much for all of Davy’s groceries. Colin felt a pang of pity for the situation, but he still didn’t understand why Lars was treating it like such a big emergency.

He heard Davy thundering down the stairs. The redhead made it to the landing of the first flight of stairs, saw them both in the entryway, and froze. Davy looked in a right state, too. He was wearing a pair of black shorts and a white singlet that was starting to get damp with sweat. His hair was mussed and his face was flushed, but his eyes were red and puffy, too. Had… had he been crying over this?

“Hi, Davy,” Colin said with forced cheer. “We brought broccoli.” He held up the bag to show him, never feeling more awkward in his life.

Davy’s eyes slid to Lars. “What is he doing here?” he asked rigidly.

“I tried to tell you, man, but you were going a mile a minute!” Lars defended himself, looking the man up and down. “Have you been… didn’t your dad lock up his gym room?”

“Sit ups,” Davy answered quickly, descending the stairs quickly and snatching the bag out of Lars’ hands. He barely even made eye contact with Colin when he relieved him of the broccoli, too. Colin began to get the dreadful feeling of being thoroughly unwelcome.

“Don’t look at me,” was all Davy said as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He shut the door behind him.

“Man…” Lars sighed, placing a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Colin, why don’t you go chill out in Davy’s room for a while. I gotta talk to Davy.”

“I can… I can just go, if that would be easier for everyone,” Colin said, his face burning. His body felt all tense; flooded with the horrible kind of adrenaline that you might get if you started getting into an argument with a stranger, but had no idea what it was actually about. 

“Nah, don’t… He… I’m gonna ask him to talk to you, he just needs to get his head in the right place, you know?”

Oh, good. Feeling like he’d just been sentenced to some kind of grim fate, Colin trudged up the stairs in his socks. Davy’s bedroom seemed depressingly empty without Davy in it. It might have been the perfect opportunity to snoop through Davy’s drawers, if Colin didn’t feel like he had an anchor in his stomach. As it was, he flopped onto the bed and tried not to cry. He grabbed one of Davy’s pillows and hugged it to his chest. He felt a frown on his face that just wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to relax, not even after his face started to ache. 

He felt utterly useless. Davy hadn’t even said hello to him. The frazzled, cold Davy was nothing at all like the Davy he’d known. How could he have missed that Davy even had this side of him? How could he have missed everything? He’d been so clueless.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep. Or maybe he just lost track of time. He could hear Davy and Lars speaking outside in the hall. 

“Just make sure you do it, okay? It’s like ripping off a bandaid,” Lars’ voice urged.

“Can’t you just stay another half hour?” Davy grumbled.

“Dude, I’ve gotta go now. It’s an outcall for like, my best regular. I have to get the skateboard from my place.”

“He’s so _ stupid _.”

Colin felt a knife through his heart. Was Davy talking about him?!

“Yeah, well, he pays double to have me walk in with a skateboard, man, I don’t know how to spell that out for you any more.”

Colin sniffed, conceding that perhaps, Davy was not actually talking about him.

“... Fine.”

“Don’t puss out, man.” Lars gave one final warning before he departed.

Don’t puss out of _ what _? Colin had briefly considered pretending to still be asleep, but he was wide awake now. Peeking out over the top of the pillow he still hugged to his chest, he was already frowning when Davy opened his bedroom door and stepped inside.

He looked a lot better now, at least. He’d changed his clothes to a pair of pink shorts and a black tee, and he wasn’t blotchy any more. Still, he had the look of someone who’d had a long, emotionally fraught day. And he seemed positively guilt-ridden when he saw Colin curled up there on his bed.

“Hi,” Davy said sheepishly. 

Colin didn’t think he’d ever seen the man act like this before. Still frowning, he pushed his chin out from underneath the pillow. “Hi,” he answered, guarded.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” Davy asked.

Obviously, he could. The fact that he had even asked was so absurdly un-Davy-like that it made Colin uncomfortable. “What is going on?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, the fridge going out, I can understand, but the way you acted… I don't get it!”

“It’s… a little more complicated than just the fridge going out.” Davy said, stepping further into the room. When he got to the side of the bed, Colin just stared up at him, waiting.

“Can you, uhm… just sit up.” Davy shook his head.

Colin did actually prefer it when the redhead just gave orders instead of phrasing everything as these maddening, unnecessary questions. Sniffing, he relinquished the pillow and sat up on the edge of the bed, watching as Davy sat alongside him and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“So, uhm,” Davy began softly, opening his photo album. “I wasn’t just in the Valley for the internship. When I met Lars, it was actually at a hospital.”

Colin’s eyes widened. 

“And this is really alarming to see but it was _ years _ago so don’t like freak out or anything,” the redhead carried on quickly. Colin watched as he tapped on a folder deep in his photo history. He actually had to enter a PIN before it would open. And it did, to a single photograph of two men in hospital gowns that Davy tapped on to enlarge with a single, trembling finger.

Colin took back everything he’d said about Davy looking in a state that afternoon. He took it back a thousand times. He’d never been more wrong about anything in his life. The Lars in the picture looked younger, but considerably washed out underneath his shaggy fringe. The Davy in the photo, though… he barely looked like Davy at all. The red hair and blue eyes were there, but the rest of him…

“Oh my god,” Colin said faintly.

Davy flinched, left hand flying to Colin’s leg and gripping his knee. Colin reached out and gently prised it off, interlacing his fingers with Davy’s and giving his hand a squeeze.

Thin. Thin, thin, thin: thin as a rake, scary thin: beyond supermodel and firmly, _ screamingly _into the realm of anorexia. In the photo, Davy was sitting cross legged on the hospital bed, and his pale legs stuck out out like wiry pipes. An IV was stuck into one of his arms, the elbow joint of which seemed to be bizarrely wide compare to his malnourished bones. His face had none of the appeal it did now: not without the flesh to pad his bone structure. Colin wasn’t sure anyone could be that thin and still be alive.

“I nearly died,” Davy confirmed softly, as if he could read Colin’s mind. Colin supposed he was especially easy to read in a situation like this. “Lars did too.”

“Did… did Lars also…” Colin though of Lars demolishing pizza the week before. Surely not.

“No,” Davy shook his head. “He overdosed. It was heroin. He said I could tell you.”

“Oh my god,” Colin said again. 

“He doesn’t do it any more,” Davy added. 

“And what about you?” Colin asked urgently.

“... I really did do the internship,” Davy said gingerly. “I just had therapy sessions to go to as well. They didn’t… they didn’t work. I collapsed. It wasn’t until I made some new friends that I really got into a proper headspace…” The man’s voice got tight and he looked away, shoulders hunching forward. “Today was really bad. I should be better than this by now.”

“Shut up,” Colin said, furiously pulling the man into a hug. “Don’t you dare,” he scolded him. “I’m the drama queen here. Don’t you dare beat yourself up over this.”

Davy clammed up, but only for a moment. When he relaxed and wrapped his arms around Colin, he buried his face in the man’s shoulder with a sob.

“I’ll buy you groceries any time you need them,” Colin said with a pout. “Proper nice ones, from Waitroses. They won’t even be frozen.” He felt like he was babbling, but he didn’t care. “Just please don’t cry.”

“...Thank you,” Davy murmured, lifting his head with big, watery eyes. “And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Colin said sincerely. “I had no idea about any of this. I feel terrible that you had to keep it a secret.”

“God, Colin,” Davy laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “I never tell anyone about this stuff. Just you, Lars and Taylor.”

“Who’s Taylor?” Colin blinked.

“A real piece of work,” Davy gave a very faint grin, looking away.

“Okay, but who is he?” Colin asked again.

“He’s my friend,” Davy answered patiently. “And kind of like my sponsor, I guess? But not really. The programs didn’t really work for me, but Taylor did.”

“Okay, well do you need to go see him?” Colin asked. He wanted to be supportive. If Taylor was what Davy needed, he’d bloody well carry him to Taylor if he had to, sore legs be damned.

“He’s working,” Davy shook his head. “I’ll go see him tomorrow. Lars already texted him, so there’s no getting out of it.”

“Right. Well. Good,” Colin said, trying to sound decisive.

Davy licked his lips nervously. “Would you… come with me? I think you’d understand if you met him. And I don’t really… wanna be alone tonight,” he added, hands still clinging gently to Colin’s shirt in loose fists.

“Yes,” Colin answered immediately. Yes to Davy’s recovery, yes to Taylor, yes to sleeping in Davy’s bed. 

Yes to everything.


	8. I mean, gross

“Colin?” There was a tug at his arm. “It’s this way.”

Colin was in a daze. Had been all morning. If he let his eyes lose focus on the surroundings of the downtown streets, he could still imagine what the nape of Davy’s neck looked like up real close. The memory of his warmth, the swell of Davy’s peachy rump pressing up against his lap as their bodies fit together on Davy’s bed… he wanted to savour it. God, he wanted to just lie in bed with Davy all morning and hold him close, carving the experience onto his memory forevermore, but Davy had said that this Taylor fellow kept strict appointments. 

“Is he a lawyer or something?” Colin had asked. It was the only profession he could think of where appointments were so closely timed. Or perhaps he was a GP; doctor’s visits were always quite hurried thanks to the strain on the NHS, and it would make sense if he was helping Davy out with his… eating plan. Davy had called it that himself. Little dinks like Lars asking to get pizza were tolerable enough over the years, but to have the entire fridge die on him had been something else entirely.

Davy had only snorted at the notion of Taylor practicing law. “Not at all.”

Colin had to concede that it was unlikely that Taylor was a GP or anything of the sort. Taking stock of the types of businesses in the little street that Davy was leading him down. He was seeing an awful lot of neon signage mixed in with large, nondescript doors that had big men dressed in black milling just outside them, despite the morning hour.

“Davy,” Colin piped up with a furrow in his brow. “Is Taylor another rent boy?”

“God, no,” Davy chortled, whipping out his phone and tapping away. “Taylor would never fuck a client.”

“Oh,” said Colin, thinking. “What is he, then?” He hoped he wasn’t a drug dealer. After all, what kind of drug dealer kept _appointments_? One that dealt speed? Hardy-har-har. But seriously.

“He works fetish,” Davy answered neatly.

“Wait, what?” Colin barely had time to process this sudden revelation when just up ahead, a big, red door swung open to reveal a young man about Davy’s age wearing a very impressive pair of black, PVC platform boots. What made them doubly impressive was that they laced all the way up past his knees, leaving a few inches of bare thigh before a high-cut, black latex brief began. Despite his lower half, the man’s torso was covered by a clingy, black turtle-neck sweater. 

“Davy,” Taylor purred, leaning against the door frame with folded arms and a smirk, “so nice to see more of you.”

“Up yours, Taylor,” Davy replied, but the quip was listless; it had no real venom to it. 

“You can do better than that,” Taylor answered serenely, tilting his head towards the doorway. “Get in.” He looked Colin up and down, raising an eyebrow. “You too, slut,” he added, lips spreading into a grin.

Colin startled his hand flying to his neck as though he might still have the imprint from Blythe’s collar. Of course, he didn’t: Taylor was just a nasty little twink. Perturbed, he looked him up and down as he passed him in the doorway, giving him a wide berth. He surmised that Taylor might actually be shorter than Davy, given the height of the boots. His features, on the other hand, were completely different: they held none of Davy’s cuteness. Taylor’s hair was jet black, short and spiky, raked back from one ear that was lined with a curving row of silver studs. His face was hard angles and fierce, hazel eyes under sharp eyebrows. There were shadows under his eyes that made him look particularly gruesome, although Colin had to do a double take as he passed. The shade just looked a little bit too purple to be natural. Was it makeup, he wondered? Why would he make himself look worse on purpose?

Whatever the case, Davy seemed to think it was normal. “Thanks for seeing me so early,” he sighed as he walked down the hall and opened a black door with a silver star on it with a great sense of familiarity. The name tag on the door read  _ WHIPPET _ . Colin wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just followed Davy into what appeared to be a sex dungeon-themed dressing room. His attention was grabbed briefly by a black mirror surrounded by light bulbs before he looked to Davy for any sign of what the hell was going on. The redheaded man seemed a bit tired, certainly, but otherwise completely neutral. He gave Colin a thin smile and reached out to give his hand a brief squeeze. That made Colin feel a bit better.

“Quite,” Taylor said crisply, coming in behind them and shutting the door. “I assume you’ve had another relapse.” He looked Davy up and down as he crossed the room. “You’re not showing yet.”

“It was just a little one,” Davy said, shrugging with one shoulder. He didn’t let go of Colin’s hand.

“Big enough to come see me,” Taylor shot back, plonking himself down squarely onto the back of a big, burly gimp waiting on all fours.

Colin gave a choking cough to stifle his gasp. He hadn’t even noticed the man, he’d been so quiet! He had a short beard, and his face was obscured by a half-hood that matched his black leather shorts. 

“Sit.” Taylor instructed, waving them towards a leather sofa along the wall adjacent to the door. “Was there vomiting?” he asked Davy frankly, reaching for a silver cigarette case on his dressing table.

“No,” Davy answered, sitting close next to Colin.

“Pills?” The man followed up swiftly.

“Jesus Christ,” Colin exclaimed under his breath, unable to help himself. Had Davy really been that bad? He remembered the hospital photo and conceded that it was possible.

“Oh, vanilla bean,” Taylor snickered, leaning back. “You have no idea what this one’s capable of. His creativity knew no bounds. Light!” he barked suddenly, dropping a lighter to the floor. 

Colin watched, gob-smacked, as the man Taylor was sitting on groped for the lighter with one hand, flicking it on and raising it up for his master to light his cigarette. Taylor didn’t make it easy for him: he kept the hand waiting with the cigarette at a certain level and no lower, watching the muscular arm tremble for a moment as he struggled to keep the flame up high and still support Taylor’s body weight. After a moment more, he leaned forward and took a drag, exhaling an arrogant plume of smoke as he snatched the lighter out of his hands. “You disgust me,” he sneered, stepping on the man’s fingers as soon as he returned on all fours. Then he crossed his legs and took another drag.

Colin wasn’t sure his eyebrows would sit naturally ever again.

“Pills, coffee, cigarettes… under-eating, over-exercising,” the macabre twink listed off the methods ruthlessly. “Did you know he won't let anyone fuck him because when he was abusing laxatives, it was a literal shit show?” he asked Colin abruptly with a leer.

Davy cringed. “Try to keep some of the mystery alive, Taylor,” he said stiffly.

“Why?” Taylor asked loudly, rounding on Davy with his eyes alone. “You go through men like tissues. You can barely last a few weeks before you deliberately do something to drive them away. What makes this one any different?”

Davy clenched his fists, but Taylor kept going. “Is that why you've brought him here?,” he asked. “Are you hoping I'll scare him away for you?” 

“I don't want him to leave!” Davy snapped.

An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by a soft sound Colin made in his throat. He was honestly quite touched that the man would say something like that, even if it was under duress. Cooing, he squeezed Davy’s hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Taylor, on the other hand, did not seem appeased. It was written all over his face: he looked down his nose at Davy with a mixture of triumph, arrogance and a deeply-seated suspicion. “Poor baby,” he simpered unkindly. “You've caught feelings and you don't know what to do, boo hoo. Are you going to let that frazzle you right back into the emergency ward?” he asked gruffly, the words making his lips curl in a sneer.

Davy didn't answer. Colin didn't think he'd ever seen Davy look embarrassed before. No, not embarrassed - positively mortified. He couldn't take it any more. “Are you always this much of a cunt?” He spluttered, incredulous. He could feel his anger turning his cheeks hot. 

“Colin, don’t…” Davy piped up, but Colin was too worked up to stop now.

“I thought you were supposed to be his friend!” the brunette cried, pulling Davy closer as though he could physically shield the redhead from Taylor’s cutting words. “But you’re just horrible!” Infuriatingly enough, the little dominatrix didn’t seem phased by Colin’s outburst in the slightest.

“Indeed I am, vanilla bean,” he purred back in reply, PVC creaking as he turned his booted foot in lazy circles. “Davy-boy and I go way back. In fact, you could say I’m the best friend he has.”

“Some  _ friend _ ,” Colin scoffed. He jumped when Davy leaned forward and gripped his knee.

“Colin,” the redhead said, cheeks flushed but blue eyes imploring. “It’s alright.”

Colin faltered. How could Davy, who scarcely picked up his own laundry, possibly be okay with this kind of treatment?! Davy must read his thoughts all over his face.

“The thing about Taylor is…” the beautiful man explained gingerly, hooking some hair behind his ear. “He’s a cunt, yeah, but it just  _ works _ , Colin. It’s the only thing that’s  _ ever  _ worked for me. I couldn’t pull any of my bullshit with him.”

Looking past Davy’s face, Colin could see the little twink grinning like a shark. Begrudgingly, he supposed he had to take Davy’s word for it, didn’t he? Especially since Davy was saying all this shit right in front of Taylor. 

“That’s right, vanilla bean,” Taylor answered, tapping ash onto the back of his gimp’s hood. “No boundaries, no mercy. I’m all about freedom of speech. Even the pig here doesn’t wear a gag. Speak!” he barked, stamping his foot on the ground as he spared the big man a glance.

“Yes, sir!” the gimp answered promptly in a gruff voice.

Colin didn’t know what to say. Sulking, he leaned back into the sofa and looked away. “I’m not  _ that  _ vanilla,” he complained.

“Trust me,” Taylor drawing, underscoring his words with a hearty slap to his gimp’s behind (from the way the man jolted underneath him, Colin got the sinking feeling that he was wearing a butt plug) “you are. You’ve got Davy’s stink all over you, and when you cut down to the meat of it, he's soft core.”

“Pardon me for not propping up the leather and latex industry,” Davy sighed, sounding tired.

“There he is,” Taylor smirked, eyes sliding back to his old friend. “Nice of you to join us. So, tell me.”

“What?” Davy frowned.

“Are you going to break down again?” Taylor asked the man frankly.

Davy didn’t answer right away: he seemed to processing some scenarios in his head. “I don’t--” he began quietly. 

“Answer me, cunt!” Taylor’s bark cut across the room like a whip crack.

“For god’s sake!” Colin cried, blanching again. He couldn’t help it.

“Shut up,” Taylor hissed, wrinkling his nose. “You don't know what it was like. I'm sure he's shown you that sob story picture of him and the human hoover in hospital, but I was  _ there _ . I had to watch my friend starve himself into a little bitch who could barely make it up stairs. Mummy and daddy shipped him off to L.A. because we all thought an English winter might have killed him. They weren’t even there for him, but I fucking was.”

Colin’s mouth fell slack. Davy’s parents hadn’t gone to the hospital? How could they let their only son go through something like that!? It was beyond comprehension, especially for Colin. The last time he’d gotten a simple case of gastro, his mum had borrowed a painter’s mask and slept on his sofa so she could look after him. It was heartbreaking to think that Davy had gone through all that alone. Or… not alone. With tears threatening to well in his eyes, he looked back to Taylor and realised the man’s expression wasn’t entirely full of malice. There was defiance there, too. 

“The fridge broke,” Davy piped up in a gentle voice. Both men looked in his direction with raised eyebrows. “Everything spoiled while I was sleeping, and you know how I am with food that might be off. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear the though of vomiting again, but I got so anxious about not eating on time, like that might start me off again, but the thought of restaurant food when I already had pizza this month… I just couldn’t.” The redhead flinched, looking queasy.

“Hrm. How soon did you call Lars?” Taylor asked. His cigarette was burning down very close to his fingers but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Right away,” Davy said. Colin nodded quickly, looking back at Taylor, just in case he needed to back up the story. “He brought me… god, they were awful, but they were low-cal meals, so I could get them down. I had… I had one and a half, to make up for the sit-ups.”

Taylor clicked his tongue, finally shaking the ash off his cigarette and taking one last, hasty drag before he stubbed the thing out near the gimp’s hand. “Fucking sit-ups,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Still, it could have been a lot worse.”

“It could have,” Davy said with a weak smile.

“Get another fucking fridge,” Taylor snapped at him after a moment’s more thought. “Or repurpose your prick father’s wine cellar if that’s easier. I won’t have you melting down because all your eggs were in one basket. Of all the stupid things to happen...” he grumbled.

“What if the power goes out?” Colin worried aloud.

“Hrm,” Taylor looked his way with a frown, but he nodded, too. “Buy some fucking dry rations, Davy,” he sighed. “Not every meal has to be chicken and greens. I’m sure you can slum it with some oatmeal in a pinch.”

“I could do that,” Davy nodded. “Though I’d still prefer chicken if I could have it.”

“I’m taking you to Waitroses,” Colin said protectively.

“It’s Waitrose,” Davy pointed out gently.

Bugger. Colin hadn’t known that. He’d never been posh.

“Sounds like a plan,” Taylor announced, rising to his feet and pulling a makeup bag out of the drawer of his dresser. “I’ll check in on you next Tuesday to make sure things are going well. If you could kindly fuck off, now, I’ve got a worm coming in on the hour and I need to get my face done.”

“Right,” Davy said, finally releasing Colin’s hand so he could get to his feet. “Thanks, Taylor. Come on, Colin. Alright, Terry,” he added on his way out, nodding to the burly man on all fours.

“Alright, Davy,” the gimp answered sheepishly, blue eyes peeping through his leather mask. He sounded completely different to the way he’d spoken before. “Get well soon.”

As if Colin hadn’t been through enough, today. He could barely contain his incredulity until they made it out onto the street. “You  _ know  _ him?!” he cried, looking at Davy with a dropped jaw.

“Terry?” Davy looked back at him with raised eyebrows, breaking out into a titter. “Yes,” he tittered. “He started out with me, actually. He was really into trampling. Beyond that…I had to pass him over to Taylor.”

“What’s trampling?” Colin asked, disturbed. Did he want to know?

“You really are vanilla,” Davy teased.

“Oh my god!” Colin cried. This was going to become a thing, he could just feel it. It wasn’t even fair! He’d done plenty of not-vanilla things already! Pardon him for not wanting to wear a gimp hood and get belittled by a mean bitch in heels.

“It’s fine,” Davy smiled. His hand found its way into Colin’s again as they walked along the sunny street. “I’m not really the same kind of sadist as Taylor.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Colin said sternly. “I’m glad.” Taylor really was a piece of work. He wondered if Davy had met him on the same scene as Lars. They may not have done the same kind of sex work, but they still; might have fraternised in some way. If sex worker’s didn’t have a union, they should look into it, he thought. “Did you convince him to move here too?” he asked.

“No, he's English,” Davy said. “We went to public school together.”

Of course. It all made sense, now. “Is everyone who goes to public school a sociopath?” Colin complained in disgust, unable to stop himself from making the catty comment before he realised he’d lumped Davy in with that comment. “Er… I mean.”

Davy just laughed. “Maybe,” he said, sniggering. “Come on, you promised to take me to Waitrose.”


	9. Baby

Colin was in rather a hurry to get home. Walking quickly down the street, he held his phone close to his chest and looked around to make sure no one was nearby. Only then did he hastily enter his passcode and sneak another peak at the message Davy had sent him shortly after he’d left the shops. A video clip: a body that Colin was all too familiar with these days. He could see the pale stalk of Davy’s cock right before it disappeared inside the pink latex of a fleshlight. His breath hitched as he tapped the play button. It was just a few slow, shallow thrusts and the rise and fall of Davy’s belly with his breathing, but that was enough to make Colin’s overactive imagination run wild.

He all but burst through the townhouse door, managing to dump house keys in a dish and kick off his shoes and hang up his jacket without becoming a tangle of reusable shopping bags. He made for the kitchen to dump said bags on the counter, and he’d barely turned around when his phone buzzed again. He didn’t need to unlock his phone for this one; the single-word SMS showed up on his notifications screen.

_ Fridge _

Clicking his tongue loudly, Colin turned back around and rummaged through the bags. Once the milk and chicken breasts were safely stowed away in the fridge, he barrelled up the stairs and arrived at Davy’s bedroom, a little out of breath, to find him sprawled out on top of the covers, wearing nothing but baby blue tube socks. His cheeks were flushed, but he looked up at him with the same devious glint shining in his blue eyes as always.

“You took your time,” Davy teased him, smirking.

“Like hell I did,” Colin retorted, passionately wrestling his limbs out of his sweater as he strode closer. He let the garment drop to the floor as he took in the scene before him. Davy still had a lazy grip of the fleshlight and was pumping it gently, so it didn’t look like he’d missed the main event. Colin was surprised, however, to see that the redhead had his laptop with him, particularly when he saw what was on the screen. It was paused, but the still showed two amateur hunks going at it doggy-style.

“Were you watching porn?” Colin asked incredulously. “You don’t like porn.”

“I tried,” Davy sighed, letting his head slump back into his over-stuffed pillow. “It’s… stupid.”

Over the months, Colin had come to learn that ‘stupid’ was one of Davy’s default descriptors for something he found too frustrating to bother comprehending. It was easy for his dominant nature to slip into stubbornness, especially when touchy subjects were involved.

“Right,” Colin said gingerly, reaching over to close the laptop. “I think that’s enough porn for today.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Colin,” Davy groaned, reaching out to tug on his boyfriend’s belt.

“Are you sure?” Colin asked, brow furrowed with concern. He reached out to touch the man’s cheek. “You know what you’re like when you get worked up like this.”

“I need to cum,” Davy insisted with a serious glare. “That’s the whole point.”

Colin peered at him for a moment, confused. Davy’s thoughts on intimacy were, generally, that cumming was _ not _the entire point, so he wasn’t too sure where this was coming from. Until he was. When it clicked, he raised his eyebrows, glancing back down at the fleshlight and feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “You mean…?”

“Mm-hm,” Davy hummed impatiently, reaching up to grab the man’s jaw and yank him down for a kiss. 

Colin gasped and fell forward, catching himself on his hands. The feel of Davy’s tongue sliding over his own was enough to make him give up on any conversation about sexual expression, especially if Davy was willing to oblige a fantasy that Colin had confessed a little while ago. Kissing the man back hungrily, his hand groped for the fleshlight that enveloped Davy’s prick. Colin used his thumbs to gently prise the man’s pale fingers away, although he had to fight him for it, a little bit. As insistent as ever, Davy didn’t let go until Colin’s own grip had settled into the rhythm that he liked. Only then did he yield and wrap his arms around Colin’s back with a moan, rolling them both onto their sides. 

“Fuck,” Colin gasped as he broke away, a strand of spit briefly connecting their mouths like honey. “It’s tight.” He felt more resistance on the pumping than he expected, yet judging by the way Davy’s hips bucked up into it, it had to feel good.

Davy nodded, in a daze. His breath hitched as Colin sped up, filling the bedroom with lewd, slick noises. The interior of the fleshlight was lined with little bumps that rubbed him in all the right ways. And his cock, achingly hard, had been erect for well over half an hours now with his idle teasing. He didn’t last long: he let out a single warning moan before he pulled Colin in for another kiss, letting the man’s mouth swallow his cries as he shot his load into the toy.

Colin stilled his hand when he felt Davy start to cum. He wasn’t quite one for sexual torment: that was Davy’s department. He didn’t need sadism to get a kick out of it, anyway: his heart fluttered in his chest just from the way the beautiful man clung to him whenever he let himself go over the edge. Vulnerability; that was the word. Just the act of cumming alone was something that Davy only shared with a very, very select few people. And fuck, it was incredible to behold. He was already hard inside his jeans. 

Pulling back for air, Colin chuckled, cooing into his boyfriend’s ear. “Did you like that?”

“Mm.” The hum was about all Colin was going to get in reply so soon after Davy had come. The man’s blue eyes were hazy as he rolled onto his back. Colin saw him grip the mouth of the fleshlight and start to pull. He reached out to stop him.

“Wait,” he said, fumbling with his jeans. “Let me.”

Gently panting, Davy stopped, watching as the brunette freed himself of his pants and let his thick cock bob between his thighs. He didn’t touch himself just yet, though; he was more interested in Davy’s dick. Leaning down, he took the base of the fleshlight and carefully eased it off the redhead’s slowly softening dick, careful not to spill any. His prick was wet and shiny with his cum: Colin eyed it for a moment before he dipped his head and took it into his mouth.

Davy mewled, hand flying to the back of Colin’s head on instinct, although he had the presence of mind not to pull his hair. Colin was very gentle as he cleaned up Davy with his mouth, lapping away his salty seed from base to tip.

“Christ, Colin,” Davy chuckled. It seemed he was finally capable of speech again. “Don’t let it get cold.”

“It won’t cool off that fast,” Colin answered cheekily, placing one final kiss on the tip of Davy’s prick before he sat up again and took the fleshlight. Breathing deeply, he lined up his erection with the pink latex asshole, glancing at Davy for direction. “Can I…?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a present if I made you work for it,” Davy tittered. He rolled onto his side with his head propped up with one hand so he could watch. “Go on.”

Colin pushed in, eyes going wide as he watched the latex opening expand and swallow his cock. It _ was _tight. Warm, too: the inside was soaked with Davy’s cum, after all. Pushing himself in to the hilt, Colin closed his eyes and savoured the feeling. “Fuck.”

“Does it feel very different to lube?” Davy asked curiously, watching the man’s face.

“It’s not _ about _that,” Colin chided him gently without opening his eyes. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Humming, he drew his hips back and started to thrust, revelling in the feeling of the toy’s texture massaging his dick. Still, it could be a little better. Cracking open his eyes, he licked his lips nervously as he looked at Davy, hesitant to ask.

“What?” the redheaded man asked, regarding him suspiciously.

“Can I… can I smell your hair?” Colin asked sheepishly, feeling his cheeks burn. 

Davy’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline. Clearly, he’d been caught off guard. “Should I be worried about my laundry hamper?” he asked pointedly.

“Davy, please,” Colin huffed. He wasn’t above pulling out the puppy-dog eyes. “You said I could ask for anything.”

“Fine,” Davy sighed dramatically, although there was a hint of a smile tugging at his pink lips. He rolled over so his back was facing Colin, running his fingers through his hair. “Cuddle up, then.”

Grinning, Colin scooted closer, kissing the the nape of the man’s neck before he buried his nose in the back of Davy’s fiery curls and inhaled gratefully. After a few awkward pumps with the fleshlight, he experimentally lifted up one of Davy’s legs, wedging the toy between his thighs so he could thrust into it freely. That felt much, much better, especially with the supple flesh of Davy’s arse up against his stomach.

“Now, that’s pushing it,” Davy grumbled, all too aware of the act they were mimicking. If they were actually fucking, he’d feel a little less like an object in this situation. Facing away like this, they couldn’t even kiss. “What am I supposed to _ do _?” he complained.

“Smell good,” Colin muttered breathlessly as he humped the backs of the man’s thighs. He nuzzled into Davy’s hairline and wrapped a hand around his stomach for leverage. “Be warm.”

Davy’s frown softened, but it didn’t go away entirely. “We could fuck, I suppose,” he reasoned with a wrinkled nose. “Maybe on your birthday. After an enema, or four.”

“Mmm, please don’t do that many,” Colin murmured, holding the man close as he fucked the fleshlight in earnest. “It’s not good for you.”

“I know,” Davy conceded, closing his eyes and enjoying Colin’s warmth. 

“God,” Colin groaned, picking up speed. Davy’s cum: it was Davy’s cum that make it slick, and that just made it so much hotter. The smell of him, the feel of him. His kindness, even when he wasn’t playing nice. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Colin.” Davy smiled.

Colin came soon after that, moaning into Davy’s ear and holding him tight. Adding his load to Davy’s made the fleshlight particularly sloppy; he took great care when he pulled himself out, setting it upright on the bedside table so he didn’t spill any on the sheets. If he did, his lovely boyfriend was liable to rub his nose in it. And while there might have been a time where Colin was in the mood for that, it wasn’t today, of all days.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Davy cooed, twisting round to pinch Colin’s cheek.

“Christmas Eve,” Colin corrected him dreamily. He let himself melt back into the mattress, but only for a moment, until their exchange registered properly in his head. “Shit!” Colin sat bolt upright. “What time is it?!”

“We’ve still got an hour or so,” Davy noted idly.

“Bloody hell,” Colin rolled out of bed and staggered towards the bathroom. “I’ve still got to make the Yorkshire puddings!”

“Take the fleshlight with you!” Davy called after him. “You can rinse it out in the shower.”

Colin had never showered faster in his life.

Officially, Colin had moved into the spare room one door down from Davy’s room. In practice, he hadn’t slept a single night in that bed. Regardless, Davy’s parents were surprisingly all too happy to have a boarder, and Colin was paying an absolute pittance in rent. Not that he’d ever actually met Mr and Mrs O’Bleary: all this had been arranged on a video conference call. Later, Davy rolled his eyes and told him that it was because his parents wanted him under more supervision. Not enough to actually give up WASP lifestyles and return to the family home, but enough to let a near-stranger live in their home if their son said he wanted him to.

It wasn’t… ideal (Colin held a lot of opinions about Davy’s parents behind his teeth) but it worked. Not to mention that they’d taken the bar fridge that had been in Colin’s old apartment and plugged it into a generator in the basement, so there’d be no more food fiascos in the future. In fact, there was currently more food than there had ever been in the O’Bleary household for a long while, because they were expecting guests round for Christmas dinner.

“Colin!” Davy called downstairs. “Door!”

Colin made sure his Yorkshire puddings were sitting happily in the oven with the timer set before he hung up his holly-printed apron and padded out of the kitchen in his socks. He’d barely opened the front door before Lars was on him like a rash, looping his arms around his neck and backing him up against the door. In the spirit of the season, it seemed he’d been favouring mints instead of Chupa Chups. Colin hummed into the kiss - partially in surprise, and partially in enjoyment.

“Merry Christmas, my dude,” Lars laughed, leaning back with a broad smile. He was wearing jeans and what appeared to be a Christmas sweater, although on closer inspection, the holly leaves were actually cannabis. Colin was concerned that he didn’t have a jacket.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, incredulous.

“Nah, I just caught an Uber,” Lars said, stooping to loosen his laces so he could take his sneakers off. It had been snowing earlier, so of course the Converse were wet, even from the short walk on the street.

“Lars!” Colin cried. “How many years have you lived here? You need to get a pair of boots.”

“Actually, this is the first year we’ve spent Christmas in England, you know?” Lars explained. He didn’t seem too stressed by the notion of slightly damp socks. Perhaps it was an American thing? As an Englishman, Colin went out of his way to avoid wet socks at all costs. It was as intolerable as putting milk in first when making tea.

“Last year, we shacked up in Jamaica for a couple of weeks. That was wild,” Lars recalled with a fond chuckle. “I even smoked for the first time in like, forever. Those Jamaican guys know what’s up, you know?”

Colin still didn’t know, but this had long since become a usual occurrence. “I’m asking Davy to buy you boots on Boxing Day,” he fussed, turning his attention to the bags in Lars’ hand. “What have you brought?”

“A little bit of everything,” Lars grinned, gently shaking the bags of paper containers. “It’s Chinese food. It’s like a Jewish thing from back home. I’m not Jewish but, damn, I love Chinese food.”

Evidently, they were going to have a very eclectic Christmas dinner. Colin couldn’t help but laugh: it was fitting, for the type of company they all kept nowadays. And he could always count on his mum to bring a ham, so tradition wouldn’t be thrown entirely out the window. “Right, well, I can keep these warm in the oven” he said, taking the bags off Lars’ hands. “Davy’s just upstairs if you want to say hello. I’ll be dishing up as soon as mum gets here.”

“Thanks, man.” Lars headed up the stairs. “Just make sure you take the fortune cookies out first.”

Colin chuckled. This was certainly going to be a very different celebration compared to previous years. Noticing that the door was still ajar, he went to close it before he let in a draft. He was stopped by the toe of a brown leather boot.

“Hello, vanilla bean,” a familiar voice purred as Taylor pushed his way through the door. His boots weren’t nearly as fearsome as the ones he wore at work: the heel on them was three inches, tops. He also looked rather more normal when he wasn’t done up with makeup, too; with fine features and a sharp jawline framed by his red turtleneck sweater. There wasn’t a festive print on it, but judging by the quality of the knit (and the expensive-looking cream slacks he’d teamed iot with) Colin would have guessed they were designer. Which one, he had no idea. Not that he was feeling insecure about his humble dress shirt and jeans combo. He had a Christmassy green vest to go over the top of it, once he was away from the oven. 

Colin clicked his tongue. “Try again,” he said, turning up his nose.

“Just having a bit of fun, Colin,” Taylor smirked, pinching the man’s cheek condescendingly as he brushed past on his way to the kitchen. “Shut the door behind me.”

Colin had gotten to know Taylor a little better since the day they’d first met, but the man was (and would probably always be) somewhat abrasive. Still, it was relatively easy to judge the quality of his character when he always spoke his mind.

“Are you alone?” Colin asked, glancing out into the street before he shut the door just to make sure. He followed the man into the kitchen and set about putting the Chinese food into warming dishes.

“Who else would I come with?” Taylor asked as he set a heavy cardboard carrier box on the counter. “Everyone I like is already here.”

“I just thought Terry might have come along,” Colin shrugged. He put his apron back on and started rummaging through the kitchen drawers for some extra trays.

“God, no,” Taylor chortled. “We’re not together. Terry’s on my payroll. Very good at his job, but he’d a dreadful bore outside of work. Besides, I imagine he’ll be spending Christmas Eve with his wife and kids.”

“Ah,” Colin said, raising his eyebrows. By now, he’d heard of far more surprising things than Terry’s marital status. Between Lars and Taylor, Colin was beginning to feel very worldly, if only by secondhand experience. “So what’s that, then?” he asked, nodding towards the box.

“Malbec,” Taylor answered, popping open the lid and pulling out a wine bottle. “I had a case shipped in from Bordeaux. I figured if we can’t have spliff this Christmas, this will keep things interesting.”

“Mum’ll like you,” Colin noted with a smile. “She’s a bit boozy, especially on Christmas.”

“I’m sure we’ll get on just fine, then.” Taylor was already pouring himself a glass.

“Hey, Taylor.” Davy and Lars had come downstairs. Davy’s Christmas sweater was cream, with a subtle blue snowflake print. By the way that both of the men’s hair looked a little bit unkempt, Colin expected that Davy had received a similar greeting to himself. 

“Davy. Harlot.” Taylor greeted each of them simply as he hopped up to sit on the marble counter, wine glass in hand.

“Maaan, can you switch it off for like one day?” Lars asked with a grimace.

“It’s part of my unique disposition,” Taylor drawled, crossing his legs and drawing little circles in the air with one of his feet.

“Sure, buddy,” Lars said with a disbelieving grin, reaching out to ruffle the shorter man’s hair as he passed to thieve one of the fortune cookies.

Taylor clicked his tongue and made a face, quickly fixing his hair. Fortunately, any further flare up between the two men was avoided by the arrival of Colin’s mother.

“_ Coo-ee! _” she called as she bustled through the front door with a jangle of earrings, several bags on one arm and a large, covered dish in the other. Colin must have left the door unlocked. “The ham’s here!”

“Hello, mum,” Colin called from the kitchen, beckoning her down the hall. He got the Yorkshire puddings out of the oven to make space for the ham and set them down on the counter before he went round to give her a hug. 

Colin’s mum, who was named Daphne, was a strong, middle-aged woman with curly, brown hair and a deceptively portly frame. She actually made a tidy living for herself working in factories, and although the drinking culture of her coworkers had become a regular part of her lifestyle, she still had a heart of gold. “Oof!” she said as she unloaded the ham dish onto the counter and turned to give her son a hug. “Hello, pet,” she clucked, kissing him on the cheek. 

Colin could smell the tawny port on her breath when they embraced, but he wasn’t too worried. His mum was a friendly drunk; she already had a rose glow on her nose, and her kind face was lit with various other colours, owing to the little LED lights sewn into the reindeer jumper that she wore over a red dress. 

“And hello, Davy,” she cooed, bending down to kiss the man on the cheek. “Alright, Lars? And you must be Taylor, hello.” As the other men chimed greetings, she pulled a smaller Tupperware out of one of her shopping bags and pressed it into Davy’s hands.

“Now Davy,” she said. “I’ve done you your own special chicken without any skin on; what I’ve done is, I’ve broiled it in some of the ham glaze so you’ll still all get the flavours. Colin, can you get a little dish out for the oven? It wants warming up.”

Colin wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Davy blush before. If he had to guess what would’ve done the trick, it wouldn’t have been a healthy dose of mothering. Within the hour, Christmas carols were playing through the house and they were all sat round the dining table with their unusual dinner spread featuring plenty of French wine. It wasn’t until they were all done scoffing their way through their first helping (or only helping, in Davy’s case) that the real banter started.

“So, have you fucked yet?” Taylor asked out of the blue, smiling from his seat across the table. Colin just about dropped his fork, his mouth still too full of sweet-and-sour pork to respond.

“If I know my Colin, he’s an arse man. He’s just like his father, rest his soul,” Daphne chimed in.

“Mum!” Colin screeched.

“I’m afraid all that’s private,” Davy said airily, sipping his wine. “Colin and I went exclusive last month.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Taylor cut in, with a pointed look at Lars. “I think this one dies if he doesn’t get a load in him regularly.”

“Well, yes, except Lars,” Davy tittered.

“Yeah, man,” Lars chuckled, turning to Colin. “What did you call it? It was funny.” 

“He’s a sexual Sweden,” Colin summarised neatly, reaching across the table for another appetiser. Lars seemed to accept the label with an easy-going pride.

“I’m not sure that makes sense.” Taylor quirked his eyebrows.

“Does that mean you’ve had a threesome?” Colin’s mum piped up curiously. “How does that work with all men?”

Colin nearly choked on his pig-in-a-blanket. 

“I can tell you all about some interesting arrangements I’ve had at work,” Taylor cut in keenly with a devious smirk, turning to Daphne and swirling wine in his glass. The Malbec had already started to darken his lips. 

“Oh are you a sex therapist or something, love?” she asked.

“He’s a dominatrix, Daphne,” Davy chimed in with bright eyes, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. 

“Is that right! You know, my Harry, he was quite into motorbikes. If he hadn’t have gone when he did, I reckon I would’ve had to get a leather corset or something to spice things up.”

“_ Mum!! _”

It was definitely a very unusual Christmas. But Colin wouldn’t have had it any other way, even if he was dying of embarrassment.

// The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morrow, fellow sluts. If you want a smidge more comical smut, give Blabbermouth a whirl. Otherwise, I don't have many other finished works to offer, save for broody, angsty pieces in which I invariably attempt to construct an idea of God. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back into writing about a certain creepy little murderer.


End file.
